Chaos Theory of the Truth of the Reunited Kingdom
by Earendil Eldar
Summary: A poisoned dart of a Nazgul brings nightmares and despair to the wounded, but can it also bring to light a potentially divisive truth? Lives, hearts, and even old beliefs may be changed for Faramir, Aragorn, and those dear to them. COMPLETE!
1. Last Ditch Effort

Cold, hard, ice-like in all ways but one: ice melts.

"...Will depend on the manner of your return," said the steward. Faramir had turned that thought over too many times, wondering just what it meant. He had come to two conclusions which seemed most likely. Either Denethor meant that he would think better of Faramir if he returned from Osgiliath victorious or, what Faramir guessed more to be expected, if he returned not alive. After all, his own father had just admitted wishing it were so.

Through all seven gates of Minas Tirith had the thought been in Faramir's mind, "Fealty with love. Valor with honor. Disloyalty with vengeance." Faramir had all he could handle in steeling his emotions enough to get out of the Citadel and out of the city itself. Once he was in the Pelennor again he could turn his hurt to rage and fight with all passion, but here on this slowed exodus he was grateful as never before to hide within the battle armor he usually avoided.

Faramir knew the things his father had uttered about love and honor were not meant for his ears, but for the Halfling's. Vengeance on the other, that was all Denethor meant for his second born. For the last 31 years, since his mother's death five years after his birth, Faramir had tried so desperately to understand his father's pitiless feelings toward him. It was one thing that was beyond Faramir's grasp entirely.

At first as a young child he had been sure that he had done something to cause his mother's death. Faramir could only remember little of her, but he knew this much: she was beautiful and kind, filled with compassion and knowledge. Yet even at his young age Faramir knew his mother was not a well woman. But he had also been born one year before Steward Ecthelion died and no one seemed to blame him for that.

As years passed his father seemed to settle on hating his younger son because he loved learning and music more than the ways of the sword and bow. Still Denethor's disposition remained a mystery to Faramir. He knew not why his father should care if he was practiced in letters as well as fighting. No one else considered Faramir any the less than his brother in battle. In fact. the men at Faramir's command had always been exceptionally loyal and would have followed him anywhere. Faramir simply had no ability to understand why his father thought he should command with more power and less empathy.

At 15 Faramir had taken to observing Boromir's behaviors in an attempt to possibly emulate him and finally gain his father's love. Boromir was 20 then and considered the most fully trained warrior in Gondor. He was tested in battle and came back not only unscathed but effusive about the thrill of war. It seemed to Faramir he talked about nothing else and wanted nothing more than to battle through the rest of his life. Faramir tried to see battle from Boromir's point of view, and when he did he was repulsed. Where, he wondered, was the excitement in taking away another man's life, a man who likely thought himself as much in the right as the companies of Gondor did. A man who maybe had his own family, a wife and a child, maybe even a father who would grieve greatly.

It was upon a visit from Mithrandir when Faramir was 18 that Denethor upped his loathing of Faramir yet again. Faramir had assisted Gandalf with some research concerning Isildur that Denethor was very unhappy about allowing the wizard access to.

Finally out of the city and Faramir's thoughts were pushed away as he lead his faithful toward overrun Osgiliath on the obvious suicide mission. Faramir stole glances at the helmed faces nearest him. Some were afraid. Some were stern. Some were unreadable. Faramir knew his own visage was unreadable as well, and to those who mirrored his, his heart went out. Had their father's last words to them been as cold?

Two days worth of fighting his very heart out, Faramir received a poisoned wound from one of the Nazgul that aided the orcs in destroying the river post and besieging Minas Tirith. Before falling unconscious, Faramir looked as his life blood seeped through his shirt and tunic and he looked up to see the charge of Dol Amroth race ahead of him. The last thing he remembered was hearing one of his men screaming desperately, "Captain Faramir! Get him out of here!"


	2. Wandering in Fever

The Black Breath, the effect of such a wound as Faramir was stricken by, has the power to induce not only a state of comatose, but despondency also, and it brings the victim nightmares in their unconsciousness. As Faramir was borne through the streets of Minas Tirith by his kinsman, Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth, he thought he heard men shouting his name.

His brother's image came to him, smiling and proud. Denethor had just named Boromir an official captain of Gondor and Boromir had come to show off his new sword, the hilt inscribed with his new title. Boromir had already collected to him as many swords and fine pieces of armor as Faramir had books stacked and strewn here and there about his chambers. The younger brother was pleased for the elder, but not terribly impressed.

"Faramir! Faramir! Where have you been, sitting here all along? Why were you not in the hall this afternoon?"

"This afternoon?" asked Faramir, feigning rather poorly. "Was today your ceremony? I'm sorry, Bor', i completely forgot. You have my congratulations though."

"Thanks, but you did not forget. Far'. Your still trying to avoid father, have you even eaten these last two nights?"

"Don't worry about me, brother. I may not have dined with you, but i have dined well enough."

"Tell me not that you have taken to dining with the soldiers?"

"The last two nights i have. What matter is it?"

"You can't dine with soldiers! You are the steward's son."

"You be his son. He looks on me as one of the soldiers, so why should i not dine with them? Besides, they take heart of the company of their captain."

Boromir rolled his eyes and sat down beside his brother on the bed. "Faramir, i do not know why father reacts to you as he does, but if you would only try -"

"I have tried all i can, Boromir. I have tried to be like you, but it is never enough for him. I can not take joy in causing someone's death in battle."

"But they are our enemies, Faramir. Surely you would not join them!"

"No, Gondor is my home and i would defend it with my life, you know that. But, Boromir, did you never look at a man whom your blow has killed and wonder if he did not have a brother and father who would miss him with a terrible grief? We are not all so different, them and us."

Boromir's expression made it obvious he had no idea what his little brother was talking about.

"Never mind, big brother," Faramir said, clapping his brother's shoulder. "My congratulations on the new weapon, you have earned it."

---

That night Faramir decided to make his way to the hall and dine with his brother. He had to mentally leave his father out of the picture, he was doing this for Boromir because he greatly loved his brother and admired him, and he knew that Boromir loved him too. Faramir decided if he couldn't have his father's love, at least there was his brother.

Faramir stopped just outside the hall, he saw down another corridor a stray cat that had been hanging around the Citadel. Faramir picked it up and petted it behind its scraggly ears, its old grey fur shedding easily. Faramir made up his mind that this aged animal should have a comfortable place to sleep for what were probably its last few days. He turned to take it back to his chamber, hoping he could keep this his secret as long as necessary, Denethor would have been livid at the very idea of his gentle son giving aid to a dying creature.

All these things had indeed happened one day some twenty years ago. Faramir relived this in his own mind as Imrahil slowly made his way up toward the Citadel. But then the vision turned and something happened that had not on that night. Faramir was stopped still as he turned back toward his chamber.

"Faramir?!" It was Denethor's voice from within the hall; Faramir froze in dread. "What care i if he has dined with the soldiers? I have dined peacefully without anyone turning up ungratefully late!" Faramir relaxed slightly. His father had not seen him.

"Father, Faramir loves you no matter what you think of him. He loves us, but you make him afraid to even dine with us."

Faramir felt slightly vindicated hearing his big brother defend him. Denethor's forthcoming words crushed that feeling though. "Afraid! That is just it. Faramir is a weakling, Boromir, and a man must not be gentle in this world if he is to be of power. As far as anyone knows, Faramir was born to a share in all the power that you claim, but he is not worthy of it. No, i care not if he dines with the soldiers, he has never shown himself worthy to dine in the Citadel. It is better to me thus, at least in this way i do not have to pretend or give him what is not his due."

Boromir might not have shared the insights and wisdom of Faramir, nor the wealth knowledge Faramir had learned in all the old texts, but he was not a fool by any measure. Boromir knew he was picking up on something terrible and life-changing and he hesitated long before speaking again.

In Boromir's hesitation, Faramir felt pulled in two. One side of him stood in the corridor listening hopefully for his brother to defend him again. The other side, seeming to watch the former side from above, he felt detached and knew that this dream was induced by the fell wound he received; but also that he was being shown what had transpired that long ago night after he had gone to make a comfortable place for the old cat.

Finally Boromir's voice was heard, low and cautious. "What do you mean, 'As far as anyone knows,' father?"

Next was Denethor's voice, much darker and more fey than Faramir had ever before heard him. "I mean, young Boromir, that you and you alone are my son."

"Father! How can you say such a thing? How can you disown Faramir like that?" Boromir uttered with difficulty, shocked at his father's tone.

"I never owned him in the first place! He is not mine and never was." Denethor struggled to keep his ire in control so that no others heard his words, but Faramir heard them all too clearly.

"Father!" shouted Boromir.

"Keep your tone low!" Denethor hissed. "For the last 11 years i have kept this knowledge as mine alone. Your mother thought she took her secret to her grave, but i have known it all along."

"H-how could you ever-"

"You will not like this learning, Boromir, but your _half-_brother is the son of a ranger who served Ecthelion. Treat that as you will, but i suppose it is time you learned of your mother's failing anyway. That is the reason she died when you were a boy; guilt killed her, not this 'homesickness' as those healers deemed it. She could not look at Faramir without being reminded of her offense. And nor can i look at him without being reminded of the same."


	3. Father

The ethereal Faramir watching his other self remained disconnected as the side of Faramir who held the old cat dissolved into nothingness. The dream ended, Faramir was aware again of his surroundings, though he found he could not move or respond in any way. He tried to fight from the shadow sleep when he heard Denethor's voice. 'That dream, it was only just that, a dream,' he thought desperately. He needed to wake, he needed to ask his father if all that had really been true. It couldnt have been, but he had to know.

Faramir had no idea how long he slept. There was much noise around him but nothing sounded distinct. There was great heat about him. His mind fluttered closer to painful consciousness again. The heat, he thought, was surely a fever, his face and hands felt oily as though he was sweating hard.

He could make out shouting but had not the clarity of mind to understand the words. The next thing he knew there was a very slow sensation of falling, so long-drawn-out did every motion register with him. He knew he had hit ground long before he felt it, it was as though everything was far-away and vague. He felt as a stricken wanderer.

At some point he opened his eyes, almost involuntarily, to try to at least see what was going on. There was fire and smoke, shouting and rushing, but none of registered very much with the young man. He could only just make out Denethor, but something was very wrong. His first thought was that his father was extremely angry with him for being out cold for so long and causing whatever commotion ensued.

"Father...," Faramir half began to apologize and half asked as much his weakened state allowed. Before he could go any further he started slipping back into darkness, the strain of opening his eyes and uttering so weighty a word being too much under the venom of the Nazgul. As his vision clouded with grayness, he saw flames rising about Denethor, the sound of terrible screams drowned out by the enveloping oblivion.

The first thing in some while that registered with him was the song of a sparrow not far away. After some while he sensed that there was gentle light around him. In these things, Faramir was content enough to rest quietly. His body felt extremely weak, but no longer pain-ridden. The breeze that came through the room was not warm, but Faramir welcomed it just the same. Fresh air was something he thought he might not experience again.

Then there was a gentle scent on the breeze. Faramir wondered if he had indeed slept a whole month until the blossoming of spring but he knew well enough that the scent was of no flower that grew in Minas Tirith. It was carried to him as a vapor and in it he felt heartened again, no longer desperate, wandering, and in shadow. His heart felt joy in thriving again with cloudless senses.

Faramir sensed that someone was very near to him, looking after him. He slowly started to open his eyes, a flash of hope crossing his mind that maybe Denethor was there and concerned about him. At first all he could make out was a dark figure beside him.

"Father?" Faramir forced his voice to speak, though it obeyed him but a little and so quietly that only the one nearest him heard at all. As his eyes focused measure-by-measure he could tell that the man beside him was decidedly not Denethor, nor even one of the city's healers. This man was indeed rather unkempt and looking battle-weary. He could see the man's countenance change greatly though when he turned and looked with steady grey eyes at Faramir and saw his gentle blue ones. A smile broke out across the man's features.

---

Hours earlier, the ragged, grim-looking man entered Minas Tirith with some of his company, all looking equally ragged and grim, with the exception of three who, though obviously drained, looked little the worse for wear. Only by the imploring of the White Wizard did he step foot inside the vast stone city, and only wrapped closely in a simple cloak, clasped by the only emblem he now bore, a leaf of green and silver.

With little delay Aragorn entered the Houses of Healing with Gandalf. As he looked around seeing men hurt in most every conceivable way he felt despondency rise. "Gandalf, i am only one man. I could not cure so many if i had a year."

"The many will need less than the King's help in their recovery. There are three, however, who need your hand, now," said his old friend, directing him to the rooms where Faramir, Eowyn, and Merry slept precariously.

"Who has the greatest need, mellon-nin?" Aragorn asked, dreading the response.

"He who they call the new Steward of Gondor needs you most of all, Estel," the wizard answered gently, clasping an encouraging hand to the man's shoulder.

Aragorn went quickly then, though a crowd was gathering to him which he greatly wished would make themselves scarce. "Curious healers," he thought, annoyed, to himself, "but they should know better than to swarm this way."

Upon seeing the young, fair man laying upon the bed motionless, Aragorn's heart sank low. "Why? Why Faramir?" Aragorn queried silently within himself. He laid his hands gently upon the stricken steward. "Faramir... Faramir.... Wake, Faramir. _Kwivo, ion-nin, hi_. Faramir...." Aragorn's calling voice grew softer and softer as he gazed at the young man and fought a bitter struggle to bring him back toward the waking earth. Faramir didn't seem to be coming back to wakefulness willingly, and Aragorn forced himself not to wonder what desolation lay within the younger man. "No!" his heart and mind defiantly shouted within. "He will NOT be lost again!" "And yet you should have been here sooner," another voice of his own reproved him. "Much sooner."

Finally the young lad rushed in with some old, dry athelas leaves. The scent filled the air quickly when crushed in the steaming water and Aragorn, kneeling beside Faramir, now rose as though a fresh man had taken his place. All those who were present felt the rejuvenation of their hearts and they felt lightened of their burdens. Aragorn turned to set the bowl of _asea aranion _aside, when his well-honed ears caught the sound of the voice he had longed so to hear. Those in the room saw his face light up and all grimness vanished from him. One lone tear managed to slip its bonds and trace a very noticeable clean path along his right cheek. Was weariness catching up to him, or had the highly impressed throng vanished into thin air at the moment he looking into Faramir's eyes?

Kwivo, ion-nin, hi = Wake, my son, now

asea aranion = athelas, kingsfoil


	4. No Rest for the Weary

Aragorn realized in an instant that he could contently remain in the room with Faramir for the rest of the day, but there were others who needed him. Though he was loathe to leave the young steward, he promised to soon return upon Faramir's promise to take rest and nourishment enough to return to health as quickly as possible.

Though Aragorn put forth no less effort to revive Eowyn and Merry, and was no less rejoiced of their wakening, he desired to visit again Faramir. It was noticed by some of quick wit and keen observation that Aragorn frequently glanced toward Faramir's room, almost as though hoping to catch hearing him speak to someone.

Eowyn woke with the aid of two kings, her brother's voice calling her back to the land of the living. Aragorn took heed that her nightmare had told her of her brother's death and again he wondered what terrible sadness might have struck at Faramir in black dreams.

Continuing onward to revive Merry, Aragorn turned to Gandalf as they walked. "I will speak with Faramir again at more length once i am sure Merry is again. . . merry," Aragorn ended sounding somewhat pathetic in his sudden loss of vocabulary.

"Merry will wake with much less difficulty than the other two, you may be assured of that. Hobbits really are amazing creatures," Gandalf mused. "However, once Merry is with us again, you shall have some nourishment and sleep. How long now have you done without both? It is beginning to affect your wits, and you shall need them all in the days to come."

"I know that, Gandalf. Perhaps i can dine with Faramir though, both he and i share the needs you mention."

"Indeed, but what rest will come for either of you in talking and getting into the facts of long-ago years?" Gandalf said pointedly, in a tone that told Aragorn that the wizard indeed knew much that was hidden.

Aragorn was silent for a moment and looked rather dark, but he gradually relented. "You are right, mellon-nin," Aragorn sighed. "First things come first. Some good it would do to talk to him before there is even a future secured."

"You have much thinking to do yet, Aragorn. Rush not into so grave a matter." They stopped before entering Merry's chamber. "As a friend of Meriadoc's is given to say, "Do not be hasty...."

That night Aragorn lay in bed, an actual, proper bed, after a full meal. These things he had not experienced since leaving Rivendell. Though they were well cared for in Lorien, even the lofty _talain_ didn't quite compare to the reality that this mortal stronghold afforded him. After all, it was in his very blood.

Yet Aragorn found no peace in sleep. He tried greatly, likely too greatly, to relax and rest, but too many thoughts appealed for his attention at once. There was mostly the days to come. As Gandalf had put it, he would be needing all of his wits about him. It would be a suicide mission and he wondered if he would indeed ever be required to own up to the title he had so long avoided. He would fight well and fight hard, and wisely, for he did not have a death wish. Yet he knew that unless their timing was absolutely precise, the only hope they really had was that at least, by their selfless deaths, a long-overdue end would come to the terror that had plagued Middle-earth since before even Elrond could remember.

Then there were the two reasons his own "selfless" death made him near sick with hesitation. If he did not return from the march on the Morannon that the free lords had planned, he would be leaving behind the two people in all of Middle-earth he cared most about. Everyone else he truly cared about would either be fighting at his side and risking the same, or would be able to sail a grey ship into the West where pain lingered not. But Arwen had given up the life of the Eldar, and with it her right to go to Valinor, in profound loyalty to her beloved. And Faramir....

Aragorn shuddered with a jolt of shock and anger at himself as a thought registered with him. If he had not cured Faramir, and if his own death came in the forthcoming battle, Aragorn believed they could be reunited in the beyond. "It is only a reason to fight harder to live," he told himself. "I can not now leave those i love so."

Another thought stole into the ranger's whirling mind. What of the truth? How exactly could such a thing ever be imparted without destroying what Aragorn for so long hoped could be? There were many involved and he realized that such repercussions came to matter too late.

How would Arwen react, and Imrahil? Or his dear friends? Should they even know? Was it ever right to keep secrets from those you love? These things he did not want to think about, but he knew that by avoiding them he would only be acting immature and irresponsible. He could ill afford those qualities in his life again.

Defeated by himself, he rose from the comfortable bed and stepped out onto the balcony, hoping the cold night air would clear his mind. Unfortunately, his room faced due east. Fortunately, by his window stood one of the only trees in Minas Tirith neither in the healing garden nor guarded heavily.

In that tree rested an elf, absorbed in meditating on the strength of their enemy and what force would be required of him. "Know thine enemy," Thranduil's words so often came. The heavy mortal footsteps drew Legolas away from his thoughts. There was no starlight or moonlight to tell, but Legolas knew the hour was one in which his brother-in-arms should have been sleeping soundly.


	5. The Gift of Friendship

The rustling of the leaves beside him was so slight that Aragorn would normally have mistaken it for a gentle breeze. But there was no breeze at all this night. Either the tree beside him was an Ent, or the ranger had calm company. Quiet a contrast to his stormy mood, Aragorn turned to find Legolas perched peacefully on the balcony rail.

"Come to admire the view, mellon-nín?" the fair one asked.

Aragorn laughed joylessly. "Indeed, but it seems you admire it more, so i will leave you to it."

He turned to go back inward but Legolas caught his sleeve. "No you don't. You are troubled, and i can see that it is more than the view ahead. Talk with me, friend, that your burden may be lighter and allow you to sleep this night."

"Ai, the questions i have may have no answers either in the realms of mortal man or of elvendom," Aragorn sighed, obviously trying to avoid disclosing much to his friend too soon.

"Very well, Estel. But when you fall on the field of exhaustion, do not expect me to bear you then," Legolas half teased. "Come, do not think that because you are about to wear the crown of Gondor and Arnor your questions are more burdensome than those of anyone else. Furthermore, do not think that suddenly you can bear more than i. You are still a mortal, and i care not what title you wield, for the Firstborn are yet more gracious."

Aragorn allowed his troubles to leave him then and smiled at the elf. "And what about you? Do you not also need some sleep?" he countered weakly.

Legolas simply shook his head in disbelief. "You are worse off than i thought, thinking i lack sleep.... It so happens i was sound asleep before your vexatious steps shattered my reflection."

The two bantered on in jest for a while longer before falling into companionable quiet. Both could not avoid their gazes going to the angry red that filled the sky about Orodruin. Grimness returned to Aragorn's expression. "What chance do you think Sam and Frodo have?"

"A better chance than you or i would have. I feel sure that we will meet again with them, in one way or another. But they have no chance if we do not act to allow them a chance."

"I know the course that must be taken, but if i do not return.... Gondor can not survive longer without a king."

"Fear not so. You will survive, and Gondor will flourish. You will not be friendless when this war is over. You and your children will bring joy to Minas Tirith such as there has never before been. The line of Elendil will not break, and the age of men will come at your coronation," Legolas said with a placid, confident smile.

"How do you know these things? I have never known you to have the gift of foresight," Aragorn faltered in amazement.

"I do not know those things, Aragorn. But i do believe them."

"Hmm. Elven faith in the future is not mortal faith in the future." Aragorn sighed heavily. "I have been too long out of the company of elves and i am starting to think like a man. Thank you for your belief in this, Legolas. You have always borne fewer doubts than i," Aragorn said, gripping his companion's shoulder.

"Rest, Aragorn. Your chances of coming home are poor if you are not at your strongest."

"I may rest well knowing my friends are true."

Legolas nodded slightly, smiling to his long-time friend, and lightly descending to the broader branches again. Aragorn turned back toward his bed, but thought again of his promise to visit Faramir.

He ended up spending the entire day after arriving in debate with the captains of all who would be fighting. The day after that he was engaged for every moment by someone or other asking for cures for their dear ones, asking for tactical advice, asking for help preparing arms and armor and horses. At some point he was aware that someone had handed him something edible, either a child of Gondor or Pippin, he wasn't quiet sure anymore. Once darkness had quelled the bustle of the city of mortal men he all but crawled to his chamber and fell into bed. That was when all the questions started assailing. If it wasn't people in the street, it was his own mind.

He had to go down to the Houses. He was pretty sure Faramir would not be awake, but that mattered little. If he was sleeping peacefully, just that would give Aragorn impetus enough to fight with all he had for the safety of Middle-earth. Besides, he would not break a promise. Even if Faramir was not awake, a visit was still a visit. Aragorn had made that promise more to himself anyway.


	6. Healing

Aragorn walked alone through the streets of Minas Tirith. Other than the guards, there was no one at this time to interrupt him and the scene was so different from that afternoon. Here in the night he could think, he could remember how long it had been since he had walked through the White City, and he remembered why he left.

He remembered walking up to the Citadel at Ecthelion's bidding. The then steward had a wonderful rapport with the outstanding ranger and called on him often. Aragorn had no idea that this meeting was going to be a turning point in his life. He knelt before Ecthelion upon entering the hall, and briefly he glanced toward the throne which seemed to tower ominously in the background.

"How may i serve you, my Lord Ecthelion?" he asked humbly.

Ecthelion beheld him critically for a moment, wondering what his answer would be. There was the possibility that he would flatly refuse. "Rise, Thorongil, your help is needed. I know that you have had instruction in healing and you are probably a great deal better at the art than those on the sixth level. I know not whether you will accept this mission, but... i have faith in you. If you choose not to do this, i shall not hold it against you."

"What would you have me undertake, Lord?" Aragorn asked, unsure of what manner of mission the Steward would accept his refusal.

"My son's wife is very near giving birth, but i fear for her life, Thorongil. She has already faded much in this northern city and my son will not see reason to simply allow her to return to her home. I have seen how you have helped so many men wounded in battle. I have seen the hope you bring them and all of us, even as we live in the very shadow of Mordor; and I believe that you of all could keep her from hopelessness at least enough that my grandson has a chance. I ask this of you not as Steward, Thorongil, but as an old man hopeful for the future. Will you help her, and me?"

Aragorn nodded. He had seen Finduilas in the city and knew her to be of beauty and gentleness, but when he looked at her he could not see much life in her. She was more often to be found in the healing garden than in the Citadel. It did not take someone of Elrond's foresight to know that she did not have many years in her. He was moved to much pity for her.

"Go then, to the Houses. Tell them i have sent you, and beware - the ladies there will not accept it well that i put such faith into a ranger," Ecthelion said with a trace of a smile. Aragorn bowed to the Steward he respected and went quickly forth.

The first thing to meet the ranger's ears was a shrill shriek. So the steward was right, they did not accept this well already. He wondered exactly how anyone was expected to heal in an environment with these women screaming and panicking. Shaking his head in incredulity he moved forward into the room.

"Please, my good women, the steward has sent me to help you," he said with some trepidation. It was not met well. Aragorn decided to ignore them as best he could and focus instead on providing help. Fortunately, a bowl nearby was filled with sufficiently hot water and he took from his belt pouch two athelas leaves, freshly collected. That served to calm the flustered nurses and allowed him to at least go near Finduilas.

"My lady?" Aragorn knelt beside her, his voice soft.

Countering his mildness, Finduilas gripped his hand with all intensity. She looked not at all gentle this day. Her fair face was stained of sweat and tears and strain of childbirth. The simple dress she wore clung to her, soaked through, as did her golden hair. Her eyes were filled with pain, but now gradually relaxing as the athelas steam filled the room.

Aragorn allowed her to grip his hand as much as she needed and he rested his free hand upon her brow. "_Sidh, híril-nín, im nev. Sidh... sidh... sidh...." _Aragorn repeated the one word over and over, keeping his eyes focused on her eyes. After what seemed hours to both him and Finduilas, the tiniest of cries was heard and relief washed over them. Aragorn then left immediately after Finduilas had been delivered.

That was the first time he met Denethor's wife, but it was not to be the last. He had not seen her again until several months later when she sought him out to offer her thanks for the kindness and courage he showed her on Boromir's birthday. He accepted her thanks and that afternoon the two spent talking of much. Finduilas spoke of Dol Amroth and her desire to return there again, Aragorn spoke of all the places he had known and Finduilas was much impressed. Aragorn told her the tale of Earendil's sailing from the southern port so long ago and he told her where and when to find the star at night and in morning. Aragorn asked how Boromir fared. Finduilas assured him that the boy was quite well and his father quite pleased with his strong cries and powerful grip, though she herself loved her baby best when he slept peacefully beside her.

It had been so long since Finduilas had someone she felt understood her, someone she felt truly comfortable speaking to, that they simply talked all day until the sun began to descend westward. Denethor had been furious that she did not attend dinner with him, but for some strange reason she did not care for what he minded. The next months had been much the same, when Thorongil was not leading his Dunedain in victory, he and Finduilas spent afternoons talking of tales and lore. The people of Minas Tirith rejoiced that their Lady seemed to return so well to health, and it was often heard in the streets how the birth of Denethor's heir had changed Finduilas's opinion of their walled city. No one knew the truth was that she escaped their walled city almost daily to lose herself, and yet find herself, in Elven realms of old.

Two years after Boromir's birth, Aragorn returned to Minas Tirith and to Steward Ecthelion with news of a great success. A great fleet of the Umbar had been destroyed, helping to secure the waterways of the Anduin and providing relief to Osgiliath. It was at that time that Ecthelion granted Thorongil leave of his service in all gratitude for his years of loyalty.

Aragorn graciously accepted this leave, for he was eager to return to the former realm of Arnor to aid with the safe-keeping of the northern lands. However, he could not help notice that Ecthelion seemed virtually reluctant to offer him such compensation, and that Denethor stared angrily with disgust at the ranger from over his father's shoulder.

Aragorn felt sorry that his leaving meant Finduilas was losing a close friend, but he promised to visit at least when situations brought him again to Gondor. Finduilas never forgot his promise though years had passed and since his leaving she took to spending much time in the great library of the city.

It was she who sent a messenger with word of Ecthelion's failing health when her husband refused to do so as his father asked him to. It was Denethor's intention to tell his father that he had sent a message forth, but that seemingly it never reached it's destination. How could anyone be expected to find a ranger in the wild anyway, especially one so wide-wandering as this Thorongil seemed?

Denethor was not aware that Thorongil had returned until days after the fact. Immediately Aragorn went to the Steward and offered him healing, but Ecthelion refused saying, "I have life provision in me yet for another year. I will remain long enough to seem my son prepared to take my place and then i shall lay down my burden and go whither i am lead thereafter. Go, my boy, and trouble yourself not with an old man."

Aragorn bowed his head in respect and understanding for Ecthelion's wishes and he lay his lips one last time to the ring of the House of Húrin before departing. As he left the Citadel he chanced upon Finduilas seated outdoors with Boromir and a maid. Touching his hand to his heart, he bowed to the three with a smile.

Finduilas asked the maid to watch over the child and she walked with Thorongil toward the healing garden. There she told him that in his absence she again slowly grew despondent, for since Boromir's birth Denethor had lavished such attention on his son that he paid little heed to her or anyone else, and though she begged him frequently to allow her to return to her home by the sea he refused. Seeing a beauty in her beyond that which was observed by her people or even her husband, Aragorn was moved again to give Finduilas what comfort he could provide. In that night Finduilas and Aragorn shared what many would call Man's greatest vulnerability.

---

"Sidh, hiril-nin, im nev. Sidh... sidh... sidh...." = Peace, my lady, i am here. Peace... peace... peace...."


	7. Greetings and Goodbyes

It was at the rising of the sun after that fateful night that Aragorn received a message from a winged courier calling him to meet an old friend at the eastern edge of Fangorn. Aragorn had no difficulty guessing who the friend in question was as his messenger was in fact a thrush, such as men of Dale had long used as heralds. Thus, again, Aragorn left Minas Tirith and Finduilas.

On the north-western ride the ranger had vowed that he would not return again to the White City unless great need drove him thither. Had it been so long ago that he gifted to Arwen the ring of Barahir along with his promise? He cursed himself deeply for his mortal weaknesses, but resolved that he would now start anew, seeing his past mistakes as past mistakes and moving on.

It was not even a year later that he received another message from the White City. This lad had much less luck in finding Thorongil than the last and he seemed extremely upset that this ranger should put him through such a search. At first Aragorn refused to accept the message, he had only just managed to put his momentary lapse in judgment behind him. He knew that the message would not have come from Ecthelion, though he had heard him to be very near the end, for they had said their goodbyes. If his timing was correct, this message was coming from Finduilas.

For two days Aragorn hesitated to heed the plea. Still the herald would not leave him alone. Then suddenly in the middle of the night the younger lad was rudely wakened by the older ranger pulling him to his feet.

"Come, we ride for Minas Tirith," Aragorn said brusquely. "What is your delay, lad? All speed!" he called back to the bewildered boy whilst mounting Roheryn. As it was, Aragorn had been found east of Emyn Muil and they were able to make the journey back to the city in two days without stopping for much rest. Though he was determined to remain true to his vow and not fail again, he remembered how Finduilas had suffered at Boromir's birth and he could not allow someone he cared about, much less a lady, to suffer when he could be of help.

This time when Aragorn entered the Houses of Healing the elder women welcomed him with honor and praise. A suddenly, sharp scream turned his attention directly to Finduilas. The scene was just as it had been five years earlier, only Aragorn thought her to be in greater pain this time. As he had the last time he crushed the athelas leaves into the hot water and took Finduilas's hand in his, resting his other hand on her brow and whispering Elvish words of reassurance to her. Whether she knew the meaning or not did not matter, for Elvish words of peace transcend linguistic differences. The hours were indeed longer before small Faramir consented to come into the world than they were for Boromir.

It was not until the rising of the sun that Finduilas was delivered this time around. Holding Faramir in her still trembling arms, Finduilas felt a sort of joy she had never known before. This child, she felt, was truly hers. Her smile simply glowed. Finduilas dismissed the nurses and now the three were alone together.

"Hold him, Aragorn," she whispered softly.

So transfixed was he with watching the calm babe resting with his mother that he hardly noticed the name she used for him. He took Faramir in his arms and it was all he could do not to weep of happiness. It was then that he realized Finduilas called him by his birth name.

He stared up at her, still in wonderment. "How did you know that i am the son of Arathorn? I have not told anyone but Mithrandir in years."

"No wizard needed divulge your secret and no one else will know this from me," she said, her voice still weak. "I spent much time in your absence reading old texts here in the libraries. I knew you could be no other, especially not after the tales you told me. This child is your heir, the heir to the throne's heir, but with your leave, none shall know that. Not even him."

"It must be so. If i could take him and give him the kind of care and love and time he deserves i would do so in a heartbeat. But i am bound to my duties in the northern lands, and he will grow up very privileged here. I have seen how Denethor spoils Boromir. I have no fears for this one's future."

"How Denethor spoils him will not matter, Aragorn. Denethor has Boromir, but this child shall i call Faramir, and i shall love him every moment with every beat of my heart and every breath that i draw. Boromir may one day have the jeweled hand of the Ring of Húrin, but Faramir i can tell will be more like unto you. He shall be a ranger for he shall want to serve his country protecting the defenseless in the wild as you do. He will have a heart for learning and cultivating and wooded lands. His men shall love him for he shall know their hearts and be merciful. He shall be as a jewel of the hunters."

Aragorn looked upon the calm and peace-filled eyes of the baby. They were the same shade of blue as Finduilas' and his hair was as golden, but in the babe's relaxed face he saw so much of himself that it shook him. His eyes could not move from this wonder, this little extension of himself. "_Mae govannen, Faramir... mae govannen_. _Cormamin lindua ele le._" The ranger found his eyes moist with delight when the little one seemed to smile at the Sindarin words. With Faramir's soft coo, Aragorn could not restrain his joy and allowed his tears to fall as he held Faramir close to his breast. "Alas that i must leave you before i even know you, Faramir. Maybe one day we will meet again. See that he learns, Finduilas. If i could be here i would teach him everything Elrond taught me."

Finduilas smiled as Aragorn gave Faramir back to her. "He will not lack any knowledge, that is my word. There will only be one thing that he does not know of."

"Finduilas, you are certain that Denethor will not know, that he will have no way of guessing or finding out?" Aragorn asked with concern not for himself but for them.

"No, he will not know. I am the surer side in any case, but i know that Faramir is not his son, but the son of Isildur's heir. Will you ever claim your right, Aragorn, or shall you wander all of your days? For if you have no other sons, all will believe the line truly broken and there will be none to challenge Mordor's increase."

Aragorn kissed Finduilas's forehead but answered her not. "No one can foreknow the future, my lady. If fate will have me take up the sword of Elendil and the crown of Gondor and Arnor, then i shall do so. But that time is yet to come and Faramir will likely be a strong, intelligent, and wonderful young man by such a time. I must tarry no longer here, my lady. I shall not return to the city soon, for my errand is farther encompassing than even i am truly aware. If i see you not again, may you and Faramir fare well and happy in each other's love, and know that i long to share this with you both." Aragorn took Faramir's tiny hand in his and spoke the Elven words that had been spoken to him when he left Imladris so many years before.

_Á lasser en le coia orn n'omenta gurtha,_

_Á í sul nora lanné le, _

_Á menle nauva calen ar' ta hwesta é alé quenle, _

_Á menealle nauva calen ar' malta_.

"_Namárië, ion-nín_," he said concluding, then quietly he drew up his cloak and hood about him and stole away into the bright shining day. That was 36 years ago.

---

"_Mae govannen, Faramir... mae govannen_. _Cormamin lindua ele le._" = Well met, Faramir... well met. My heart sings to see you."

May the leaves of your life tree never turn brown  
May the wind fill your sails  
May thy paths be green and the breeze on thy back  
May your ways be green and golden

"_Namárië, ion-nín_," = Farewell, my son


	8. There and Back Again

Now things had come full circle. One early morning all those years ago, Aragorn had been in the same healing room watching the same peaceful slumber of his son. Now as the sun struggled to break passed Mordor's blackness, here he was again, captivated by this quiet one. Now, as before, he was preparing to leave his dear son in the presumably safe city while he went to face danger and possible death. With the thought of his possible death came the fear that no one would ever know that the line of Elendil who came from the West was not yet sundered.

Worse, much worse, was Aragorn's fear that Faramir might never know how much his father really loved him and how terribly sorry he was that his judgment of Denethor had been so wrong. Aragorn stared long at Faramir and wondered if he would be able to tell him, if they both survived the dark days ahead. And if he did make a clean breast, would it mean losing Faramir? Aragorn would rather keep the secret and forever wish for the love of his first born than he would do him any hurt or cause Faramir to hate him.

Aragorn remembered something Boromir said to him while they were in Lothlorien, it seemed so long ago. Boromir talked often of Faramir and always proudly, but in Lorien Boromir's concerns grew heavy. One evening as the only two Men for leagues around relaxed at the end of the day, Boromir spoke of hoping to return to Gondor if only to help keep Faramir's state of mind up. He spoke of how he hated the times when Faramir would withdraw from others and stay locked in his chambers for days. This worried Aragorn and when he asked Boromir further he responded by saying, "I only wish my little brother had his father to grow up with."

Aragorn was somewhat startled by how close to the mark the other man's words were, but he decided to pass it off as a symbolic statement more than anything. He wondered now though, had Boromir known something? If so, how did he learn it, and who else knew? Aragorn's fear was that Denethor had not been so deceived and had treated Faramir poorly because of the truth of his birth.

"It is time, Aragorn, for you to fight for him, and for all you love." The king-to-be jumped startled by the wizard's even voice.

"Gandalf, what if i never get to say goodbye to him?" Aragorn asked his wise friend in a rather unsteady voice.

"You are not the only one taking that risk this day. Many of the men now preparing for this march are leaving loved ones behind, and i can assure you that they are all now feeling as you are. I can not tell you what will come of this, but i can tell you that this is not the time to let slip your mind. Rather, hold what you know as a precious treasure, a reminder of what you are fighting for, just as you do Arwen's jewel."

Aragorn nodded, understanding perfectly. Gandalf glanced at Faramir and smiled as the young man began to wake. "I will leave you now. The companies shall await your command."

Faramir looked up at Aragorn and smiled, drawing the same from older man. "My king, I have heard from the nurses that you are leading the men to the Morannen. I would give anything to be well enough to ride with you."

"So would i, Faramir. It would ease my heart greatly to not have to leave you behind again. But for my part, i shall fight doubly hard, not only to see the fall of evil, but to return here safely to you. Though i can not speak for Éomer and Pippin, i feel sure that the case shall be the same for them. For you see, they too leave behind those dear to them."

Faramir nodded in acceptance. "They say that you go to the aid of Frodo and Sam, that your aim is to distract the armies of Mordor to allow them a free crossing of Gorgoroth. You are truly most noble, my King."

Aragorn shook his head though. "My part in aiding Frodo is no greater than yours was, Faramir. You knew well the penalty you should face if Denethor knew you had allowed them freedom from Henneth Annun. You are braver than many, Faramir."

Again Faramir smiled and offered his gratitude in the Elvish words, "_Hannon le, aratan_."

Aragorn's countenance lit up the small room more than any morning light could. "I am proud of you, Faramir. More proud than you know," said the older ranger softly as he removed from his belt a small, worn leather pouch. "Take this, Faramir. In it are five fresh athelas leaves. Since the others have been revived, you should only use maybe a half of a leaf, if the need should arise."

"I thank you, my Lord, but i have not your healing hands, only the King has such skill."

"I have put forth my skill to revive, you have enough skill to maintain them though. Simply give to them what comfort you may."

Faramir nodded, taking the pouch and bowing his head. "Farewell, my King," he said as the two men clasped arms in solidarity.

"Farewell, Faramir. I will see you after," Aragorn replied, pulling Faramir into a hug that neither felt willing to break from.

"You are a man of your word. I trust you, Lord Aragorn."

"And i you," Aragorn said as he left Faramir's room. "I trust you with all, my son," he added out of ear-shot, a tear running down his face.


	9. Momentary Reprieve

For the next seven days Aragorn did all he could to think not of the situation of his personal life. He kept his focus strictly on leading the march to Mordor's front door. There was unfortunately little thinking for him to do of the matter, it was all fairly cut and dry. They would march to Morannen. He would ride forward and demand parley for Sauron's attention. Sauron would send his forces to surround them about the slag-hills. They would fight a bitter fight and hopefully not be defeated before the One Ring fell into the fire of Mount Doom.

On the sixth day out, at the edge of Ithilien while stopped briefly for what rest there could be in the dark shadow they were under, Aragorn looked into the eyes of men nearby. His words to Faramir came rushing back to him and he thought how many men around him were leaving behind ones they loved more than anything.

The elf's hand on his shoulder did little to startle him. "Aragorn, your eyes are filled with compassion. Do you command them to this or do you ask for their courage and aid?"

"If i commanded them to march before the Black Gate i would be a murderer, no better than any orc in that place. As it is, i believe we are enough to do our people loss, are we not?" Aragorn then turned to the masses and bid those who could not bear the terror of Mordor to go and to find their fight elsewhere. Those who remained for the rest of the march did so of free will and thus Aragorn felt at least a little relieved of one of the many burdens he bore.

---

Within the City, Faramir refused to remain in bed much longer. He pondered the dream he had whilst under fell influence a thousand times. He wondered at some of the words said to him, particularly by the King.

He was greatly curious as to how Aragorn came to believe that he had the skill of healing. Faramir had never studied healing arts and only knew what herb-lore there was to be learned in the libraries. Nor did Faramir entirely understand why the King seemed so pained at their parting. He said that Éomer and Pippin were leaving dear ones behind as well, but he knew that Éowyn was the sister of Éomer, and Pippin and Merry were cousins, so much had he learned from the loquacious nurses. Who was he to Aragorn but his Steward? For it was from the nurses that Faramir also learned, to quite a mixed reaction, that he was now Steward of Gondor. Aragorn said that he trusted Faramir, and yet they had only met when he revived him.

Faramir decided to put the question to rest, though, and accept the King's fondness for what it was. He was realizing that after all these years under Denethor's fault-finding watch he had become somewhat suspicious of those who showed him real caring.

In the days since the companies rode forth from the city Faramir found Minas Tirith to be a rather lonely place. He had become used to going out with the ride whenever there was a mission to be accomplished. Now there were only women and children left behind and they would not leave their homes. Faramir had taken to spending his night's still in the Houses of Healing, if only to avoid the office of the Steward and to placate the healers.

On a couple of occasions he had used a bit of an athelas leaf hoping to give relief to the heart of Éowyn, which was so greatly sorrowful. He found he was amazed that he possessed a skill he never even knew he had, but he reasoned that perhaps athelas was still so powerful even in the hands of a man lesser than the King.

He also found that though Merry often felt out of place, all his friends having gone to their great deeds, no athelas was required, only food, frequently. Faramir decided to take this opportunity to learn more about Halflings and their Shire. He was incredibly impressed with everything Merry spoke of, for there was very little of anything mentioned about the Shire in anything that he had read. In fact, he only ever heard of one such creature before meeting Frodo and Sam, but he had dismissed the tales as whimsy; after all, how could anyone have the power to disappear and smuggle dwarves out from under the very noses of the Elves of Mirkwood?

Faramir wished indeed that Éowyn would come around that she might tell him the great tales of Rohan, but the Lady remained mostly disconsolate, instead of sharing of her land's knowledge and unique history. Though both Faramir and Merry had wished greatly to be with their friends at this heroic time in history, they were also quite glad to have the opportunity to learn more about Middle-earth's places previously unknown to them. Such things helped Faramir greatly in relieving his mind of the many burning questions he feared he might never have an answer to.

---

_A/N: I don't make a practice of leaving author's notes often, but i wanted to thank all those who have reviewed thus far. I really appreciate the feed-back, as does any writer. It is a real motivator! One question i did want to address was capitalizing "I." As has been noticed, i don't. I, myself have found no other language but English which puts so much emphasis on the self that the word "I" is capitalized, yet "you" is not. As far as i am concerned, you are just as important as i._

_Also, a translation i forget to make from the last chapter:_

_Hannon le, aratan = Thank you, King (aratan is literally "royal man")_

_In this case, "le" is correct usage. I have seen the "L" doubled as in Welsh, but i have never seen this in Book usage._

_Anyway, the point is: thanks for reading. More to come!_


	10. Stewardship and Coronation

Everything in Minas Tirith changed after the shaking on the seventh day after the departure of the Host. The great eagle came unto Minas Tirith, telling of the breaking of the Black Gate and the victory of the King. Everything seemed again fair and bright, the Shadow was no more. All had hearts lighter than children, all expect for Éowyn.

Faramir was moved to much pity, for to his eyes Éowyn was fair and beautiful, but when he looked upon he could not help but perceive her sadness and pain. After the news of the victory over Sauron's forces Faramir took to spending much time with Éowyn in the healing garden and telling her tales of the great island of Númenor and Elendil and his sons, Isildur and Anarion, who came from there before its foundering.

At times Faramir wished that Merry had also remained in the city, though he was glad that he was going with his friends and dear ones. Faramir truly treasured the times they would sit and talk over a pint of Gondor's finest ale, for often Merry spoke of Boromir and always in glowing terms. Hearing of his brother from the Hobbit gave Faramir a great deal of comfort that he had not had the luxury of when he took the cloven horn of Gondor back to Denethor. Faramir learned that Boromir's death was one he would have called honorable and proud and that helped to lessen the ache of losing his beloved brother.

For the month that passed between the destruction of the Ring and the Host's return to the city Faramir had forgotten many of his burdensome worries. While some of Aragorn's worried proved to be needless, others still remained and he felt it best to not speed a return to Minas Tirith. He was quite content to let Frodo and Sam sleep in peace under the beech trees until they woke of their own accord. He saw this time as a good opportunity to make decisions about just how he would raise the incredibly sensitive matter that beset him for nearly half of his life.

When at last the long awaited victorious Host came to Osgiliath, shortly over a month since their leaving, Faramir had all preparations well in hand with the help of many. With dawn a great crowd had come together before the city to greet their returned King. Faramir went forward to Aragorn thinking to surrender the office of Steward now that Aragorn was to take up the crown. But Aragorn would hear of no such thing. Faramir was his Steward, and the King would have it no other way.

Aragorn had had enough time to think out the first few days of his reign. He would bow to the wishes of the people and sit in judgment and take audiences as they came to him. Getting passed the initial rush he felt sure he would be facing was essential before he could set aside the kind of time that would be needed to deal with whatever reactions Faramir might have to what Aragorn knew he had to tell him. He wondered if there would be such a thing as a "good" time or if he would just keep excusing his procrastination as waiting for the right instant.

---

_A/N: (This is becoming a habit!) Apologies for the lack of length this time around. Short but there is some important information here. _

_Anyone catch the paraphrased Shakespeare in Chapter 9? Triple points if you can tell me what play it was from! (The scoring is derived from 'Whose Line is it Anyway?')_

_The next chapter up should be a little longer, and a little more tense._


	11. Adjusting

In the days after Aragorn took up his inheritance Faramir found himself more busy than ever before. But so unlike Denethor, for whom the work was a nuisance that was a negative aspect in the power of the office, Faramir found that he thrived like never before.

To Faramir, the power of the office of Steward held utterly no significance, but for in the eyes of the people of Minas Tirith, who had loved him all of his life. To Faramir, working with Aragorn and assisting him in his ministry was a joy and gave him a sense of satisfaction he had never had before. He felt that perhaps such fulfillment, the feeling of being wanted and useful, was how Boromir looked upon his role in battle.

Though when Faramir had served with the Ithilien rangers he knew well enough that he was indeed more than useful to the fight against Mordor, he never felt at his vocation. He had not served needlessly, but he knew he was possessed of so much more and his abhorrence of battle caused him often to be grim and withdrawn in his rank as Captain.

But now, as Steward of Gondor and assistant to the King, Faramir was a changed man. He walked, for the first time, proud and happy and the people said what a fine team the King and the Steward made. For the first time in his life, Faramir felt important and appreciated and in his true element.

---

After his first week Aragorn knew the meaning of exhaustion. Days without food or sleep were routine and undemanding. Minas Tirith was suddenly under siege. Not from a foe unlooked for, but by her own people. King Elessar was kept engaged from before the sun rose to long before it set. He might have expected a few days worth of such a storm, but not an entire week. He had not even seen his friends since his coronation and he hadn't had the time to speak more to Faramir than to apologizingly ask for his help with yet another matter.

After the departure of the Rohirrim the city calmed down considerably. When he woke one morning to no pressing throng filling the streets below, his first reaction was suspicion. 'Something bad has happened and they're not telling me,' he thought, slightly paranoid, as he dressed hastily and rushed out into the corridors. There was no one about, no guards and maids hurrying back and forth. In fact, there was what Aragorn perceived as an overriding sense of peace in the Citadel.

Movement at the other end of the hall caught Aragorn's eye and he nearly shouted for happiness to see Legolas and Gimli. Together they went down to the Hall where four Hobbits were waiting for Aragorn, rather impatiently, that they might start their breakfast. For the first time in what seemed an eternity, Aragorn felt comfortable again. After a while Gandalf joined them as well and the picture was, nearly, complete (though Aragorn was beginning to wonder how someone from the Blessed Realm could possibly always turn up later than everyone else).

That morning there was no rush to anything and the friends relaxed and talked together long into the afternoon, for days had come that each of them had wondered if they would see. The companions took rest and comfort in being together again.

As evening came on they started to retire separately until the only ones left in the Hall were Aragorn and Gandalf. "I was speaking with Faramir this morning," the wizard said, obviously making more than just small talk.

Aragorn sighed slowly. "I know, Gandalf, i know i have to talk to him soon. It's just that in the last week i have had no time to talk to anyone here who hasn't come for audience. There just has not been time -"

"There is time now, Aragorn," Gandalf interrupted, sounding impatient with Aragorn's procrastination.

"Do you really think now is the right time, though? We have only just started -"

Again Gandalf cut him off though, not exactly caring whether he was talking to the ranger he met years ago or the King of Gondor and Arnor. "The right time would have been years ago, but now there is no right or wrong time. There is only time and that is all you are losing by waiting."

"What exactly had you spoken about with him?" Aragorn asked, afraid that maybe Faramir had already learned something.

"If you fear that i have preempted what you have to tell him -"

Aragorn couldn't help smiling as he realized it was his turn to interrupt. "That is not my fear, Gandalf. I know you much better than that. I just wanted to know if he found out someway."

"What Faramir told me of is not for me to say. You may ask him yourself, if he is willing to tell you. Suffice it to say, your words will not be old news to him," Gandalf assured Aragorn.

For a few moments Aragorn sat looking like he dreaded this before asking Gandalf to ask Faramir to meet him in his study. He hoped Faramir would feel more comfortable there than in the relatively impersonal Hall of the Kings. Faramir had been his right hand the passed week and he truly enjoyed and appreciated working with him. Aragorn feared so that it would all come to an end, likely a bitter end, this night.

---

_Take a deep breath...._

_Anyone else have any guesses about the Shakespearean parallel that i couldn't help but draw?_


	12. Dream Brother

It was that morning that Faramir came across Gandalf enjoying one of the first untainted sunrises in years, the same purpose that brought Faramir forth at the early hour. The two sat together and watched the world light up in companionable silence.

After a while Faramir asked what had awoken Gandalf that he was out and about at the rising of the sun. Gandalf's reply was that the sense of peace he had through the night was too old a feeling to sleep through. Faramir nodded appreciatively but Gandalf turned the question back to him.

For a moment Faramir didn't answer, but then he turned to Gandalf with a hopeful expression. "Mithrandir, may i tell you of something?" he asked, almost uncertain that his old mentor wouldn't find him mad.

Gandalf's warm smiled told him quite otherwise. Faramir had always felt able to talk to his old friend whenever he was in Minas Tirith in spite of, or possibly rather because of, the fact that Denethor distrusted Gandalf so. Faramir told Gandalf of the vision he had when stricken. Since being healed Faramir had decided to put the dream behind him and put it down to the fell influence of Sauron.

"This night i dreamed again. It was like to that dream, Mithrandir, but it seemed to expand on it. I was in the corridor before the hall, still holding the poor old cat. Only when my father said that mother died of guilt Boromir became enraged with father and told him that even if such a thing were true he would never treat me differently. Boromir said that to him i was his brother, and half or whole mattered not. I suppose i just dreamed that to ease my own heart though."  
"That sounds like something Boromir would have said," Gandalf mused. "Boromir loved you as much as your mother did, that much i am sure of, Faramir, and he would have shielded you from any hurt."

"Mithrandir, you said that my father would remember that he loved me, but that is the one thing no nurse or healer told me of. Did he?"

Gandalf looked long at Faramir with sympathy for what the young man did not yet know. "He did indeed, Faramir."

"I also dreamed of my mother last night, or more i remembered her. I remembered the day she died. I was so young, but i remembered going to her chamber thinking i would find her by her south window at her embroidery. I wanted to go to the garden with her and listen to her favorite tales of Númenor and Eärendil. But when i entered she had not yet left her bed and she could scarcely even raise her head to see who had entered. I asked if we could go into the garden, but she only said 'not this day, my Faramir.' I was content enough to stay indoors and keep her company, though, and so she told me in her failing voice of the great King Elendil and how he longed to see the glory that was Númenor rise again in Middle-earth."

Faramir paused for a moment and sighed. "Mithrandir, her last words to me were that she loved me. In fact, i think those were her last words to anyone."

"Your mother did not die because she could not look upon you, Faramir. If anything, you sustained her life more than anyone else ever could have. You gave her a happiness she had never before known was possible."

Gandalf's solemn words did much to reassure Faramir, but again he felt the need to be sure. "Do you know what is truth, Mithrandir?" Faramir asked, hopeful that the wise wizard would be able to shed some light on his life.

But Gandalf shook his head slowly. "These things are not known to me, young Faramir." Gandalf went quickly on then to the Citadel, knowing that Aragorn would have to talk to Faramir at a time when the Steward was not keeping his emotions perfectly hidden away under dark years of scorn.

---

As soon as Gandalf had left to call Faramir to see Aragorn, the King went to his study and took out a well-hidden bottle of Dorwinion that had been sent as a gift from the Woodland Realm. Aragorn wondered if he wouldn't do better to ask Legolas to have his father send a whole barrel down the Anduin. Perhaps, he thought, if he consumed that in one sitting his nerves would be fit to stand what he was about to face.

Dorwinion was an exceptionally strong wine and practically the only thing an elf could drink that would have any intoxicating effect. Then again, no elf had ever tried Shire ale, which was probably for the best. Aragorn was one of the few mortal men who could still be coherent after a glass of it, mostly because of his upbringing in Elrond's home.

He decided to have one of the women send up a pitcher of ale as well, in case Faramir needed a drink as well. The king only hoped the vessel would not end up becoming a bludgeon to his head.

---

_Ok, i have officially dragged this out long enough. Just thought you would all like to experience the anxiety that the father and the son are going through. _

_Kudos to Nibble for knowing my favorite Shakespearean speech. I am working on committing it to memory. _

_Keep the reviews coming and i will keep the chapters coming quickly. :)_


	13. What Will You Say?

Entering the Citadel Faramir felt rather sure that Aragorn had called on him for a personal visit rather than business, having sent Gandalf instead of one of the incredibly eager lads that waited for a message to dash off with. Faramir was incredibly glad that Aragorn had not taken up the study that Denethor kept while in office, the memories would not have made for a pleasant conversation with his King.

As Faramir passed through the Hall on his way back to Aragorn's study a young kitten suddenly darted out from a hiding place and pounced playfully at Faramir's cloak, drawing a laughing smile from the young man. Faramir picked up the little grimalkin and looked closely at him as the kitten reached out a paw and touched Faramir's nose mischievously. He set it down again and off again went Minas Tirith's smallest hunter. The Steward knocked gently upon the rarely closed door.

Aragorn had been standing outside on the balcony, his eyes trained on Earendil and hoping that the Valar would provide him with enough strength to pass this test. Nothing had ever been this trying for him before. Orc battles, years of hunting slippery little long-corrupted river-folk, making it out of Moria alive with a Balrog chasing you, standing before the Black Gate... surely these things were no trial as compared to facing his own mortal weakness and the helplessness he felt at being so terrified of the truth.

When he heard Faramir's knock, the intricately etched wine glass nearly slipped from his grasp. In the next instant, he wondered how strong the glass was that it did not crumble and slice his sword hand to shreds under the steadying grip he forced. Taking a deep breath, Aragorn told himself he was as prepared as he would get. "Come in," he called with more voice than he thought he had.

Faramir entered and give a quick bow, having learned from the beginning that Aragorn detested everyone kneeling to him, especially those he worked closely with. Still, it would take Faramir a while before he was comfortable enough to let formalities slide when they met privately.

"Join me on the balcony, please, Faramir," Aragorn said, ushering him toward the open air and handing him a tankard of ale. He himself did not yet feel that he had quite enough to breathe before carrying on.

For several minutes the two men stood side by side, gazing upward at the glittering multitude above. Faramir kept his gaze mostly on one star in the western sky. "Earendil shines on us this eve," Faramir mused.

"Indeed. Come, be seated with me." As quickly as Aragorn had dragged Faramir outside did he pull him back in where the seating was comfortable. "Faramir, one of the ill effects of a Nazgul's sting can be nightmares for the afflicted. Éowyn dreamed that Éomer was lost in battle and this caused much of her despondency. I do not know what Merry might have seen, but it probably had something to do with a ruined crop of mushrooms." Both men grinned, knowing that was doubtless quite close to the mark. "Will you tell me what caused your despair, Faramir?"

Faramir nodded slowly. "I had a dream in which i overheard a conversation my father and brother had one evening. Denethor told Boromir that i was not born of the House of Stewards and that i was the son of a ranger who served under Ecthelion."

Faramir made only a half-hearted effort to school his features into a well-practiced blank expression. His sadness was still very evident and he knew it, but he did not feel the need to suppress this around Aragorn.

At that moment the only thing Aragorn had any heart to say was simply that he loved his son with all his heart. This was already incredibly painful for the king and he had said nothing yet. Aragorn knew well enough to expect something like that to be what Faramir's nightmare consisted of, but he had no idea how real it would be. Nor did he have any idea that the question he asked Faramir, just to get the talking started, was going to bring up the main topic so immediately. 'Out with it,' Aragorn thought to himself. 'Just tell him, you owe him that.'

Aragorn took a few well paced breaths before starting. "Faramir, i have something that i must tell you," his voice filled with honesty and seriousness. "Your nightmare was... not a deceit." Aragorn paused for a while there to allow Faramir to grasp these things bit-by-bit.


	14. Father and Son

Aragorn observed Faramir closely. Behind an expression of mostly shock and questioning, Aragorn could make out what he thought might be the tiniest bit of relief. But it was buried deeply under a certain amount of devastation and Aragorn wondered if it wasnt some false hope of his own.

Faramir's gaze no longer held with Aragorn's as he dropped his vision to the thin air directly in front of him. Faramir felt his heart racing against his breathing, it was a dead heat if ever there was one. His head bowed and his loose hair fell over his face. He closed his eyes tightly, fighting back the tears he felt rush up from his heart. It was not as though his dream had not prepared him for this, but.... When he lifted his head again his wet eyes pleaded with Aragorn.

His voice scarcely worked. He felt his mouth dry and his throat constricted tightly, choked with unshed tears which felt as though they were burning through his vocal chords. All Faramir managed to utter was, "Who...?"

Perceiving all too clearly every bit of his son's pain, Aragorn's own breathing had become very ragged. His eyes fell closed and he unconsciously lowed his head slightly, taking another deep breath before continuing rather quietly. "Thirty-seven years ago, a man called Thorongil was a highly praised ranger to Steward Ecthelion. Thorongil has been called by many other names, but the first name that was given to him was Aragorn, son of Arathorn."

The next minute felt like a life-age to them both. Faramir could not describe his feeling at that moment even if he had an elven lifetime to do so. Faramir felt everything from sadness to shock to a strange sort of happiness, to some feeling that had no name but felt like disbelief. Yet he knew instantly that there was nothing in Aragorn's words that was untrue.

Memories, one right after the other, rushed passed Faramir's mind. Aragorn's parting gift before he left for the march on the Black Gate, how he perceived such sadness in the King at the parting, the unmistakable light the glowed in Aragorn's eyes when Faramir first woke to him in the Houses of Healing, the fact that Thorongil's name was the only name Denethor ever spoke with more disgust than Faramir's. All these things and more proved to Faramir that this was no lie.

He looked long at Aragorn before lowering his head again and gently shutting his eyes, trying to understand. His fierce trembling had ended and his breathing was again surprisingly even. He looked up again at Aragorn with noticeable hope and just barely whispered, his voice suddenly jagged again, "Father?"

Aragorn's tears fell freely then and all he respond could with was a nod.

Faramir suddenly felt so weak. "All of my life," he said quietly, only partly aware that he was thinking out loud, "every day, i wished that i could change my birth.... The only thing i ever really wanted, day in and day out, was my fa-, Denethor's, love."

"Faramir... i am so sorry. I don't expect you to forgive me or to understand me, but i want you to know how sorry i am. I thought... the way he treated Boromir made me believe that you would be much happier.... I'm sorry, Faramir. I'm sorry that you ever suffered because of me."

"But why did you...? I never saw you... you never saw me. Did you even care? It's not that you had to make yourself known, but did you ever even want to know how i was doing?" Faramir's eyes now showed a deep hurt that struck Aragorn the worst blow he'd ever been dealt.

It took a lot for Aragorn to pull himself together to answer. "I cared, Faramir, every day. I listened always for news of you everywhere i went. The reason i never came back here was that.... Faramir, believe me, i wanted to come back here every day." His heart was sinking low, he was so scared that Faramir was not believing that he loved him. "I did not come here again because i thought it would be better for you not to know. And yet, i will not lie to you, it was also my own dishonor that kept me away. I wanted you to grow up free from any doubts that my being there might have caused. I truly had no inclination that your life would be so unhappy. I wanted the best for you. I learned far too late how grievous a mistake i had made."

Again, the quiet filled the next minute into a long, long time as Faramir and Aragorn silently read each other's heartbreaking expressions.

"F-father... you truly love me as your son?"

Aragorn's trace of a smile was a sad one. "I have from the very moment you were born, Faramir."

At that there was a small feeling kindled in Faramir's heart the likes of which was utterly foreign to him: the love of a father for his son. Faramir was hardly awake that he rose to stand, as did Aragorn. All he knew was that he was embracing his father, the man who his heart knew was truly his father in all senses. The single word which caused him to plunge back into darkness a month earlier now filled Faramir's heart, "Father...." He did not hold back his smile.

Aragorn held his beloved son in a tight hug and he would not let go for fear that this dream would slip away. "My son... my son...."


	15. You and I

There was little more to be said that night. The small amount of Dorwinion that Aragorn had was beginning to take effect and he was feeling sleepy. Faramir, more because of the wracking shock than the ale, was also feeling rather drowsy. They agreed to retire for the night and talk more in the morning, for there was much more yet to be said and discussed.

That night Aragorn slept the sleep of those granted a stay of execution. When Faramir fell into his bed, however, his thoughts continued to spin. Though sleep eventually took him by force, morning's light did not bring him the same calm it brought his father.

As he drew near Aragorn's study the next morning he could feel his heart beating strangely. Faramir carried with him the white rod of the Stewards that he had offered up to Aragorn when he thought to resign his post at the coronation. When Faramir entered the king's study, Aragorn stepped in from the balcony to greet him.

The king was looking much better than the night before, but it seemed that their roles were reversed and it was now Faramir who looked cheerless. If Faramir felt the love of his father the night before, he did not remember this day.

At Aragorn's "good morning," Faramir merely nodded, a touch of resentment showing. "I come, for a second time, to offer you the resignation of the office of Steward, since i now know that such is not my place, and never had been."

Aragorn had not been so foolish as to expect that Faramir would accept things literally over night, but he had indeed greatly hoped that Faramir would not really wish to resign. He could not see anyone else possibly doing the job at all as well as Faramir, and there were very few people that he would enjoy working closely with so much.

Aragorn shook his head and gently placed his hand over Faramir's, closing his fingers around the staff. "I would have none other than you as my Steward, Faramir. I told you that before, and by that i stand firm. It matters absolutely not that you are not 'of' the House of the Steward, for none now are. You are the best man for the job."

But Faramir's eyes darkened. "I do not need your pity, Aragorn. The King of Gondor can not have his own bastard prince as Steward. Take this office from me, please, that i may have leave to be gone from Minas Tirith."

Aragorn closed his eyes and let out a sigh. "Faramir, please...," he said resting a hand on his shoulder, hoping Faramir would calm down enough to talk things over. His son shrugged his hand away though. "But where would you go? Why would you go?"

"I hoped to dwell in Ithilien. If that is too near, if you would rather i not remain in your realm, perhaps i shall dwell in Dale. I would not see your rule tainted by my presence." Faramir had quickly relearned the art of _sang froid, _though it was now becoming heated with anger that threatened to boil over.

Aragorn's concern pierced him to the heart. "Faramir, my Faramir, how could you ever taint -"

"Yes, you claim me now. Now, when it is convenient for you to do so. Now, when i shall not be an impediment in your way. Now, when none are left but you to tell me the way of it."

"Faramir -" Aragorn tried vainly to continue.

"You left me here, you ran from me and kept far away from me. Never before did you want anything to do with me. But now it seems to go well with your whim to have the love of a son, as an addition to the collection you have gathered of those who love you."

"Many love you too, Faramir. It is not that -" was all Aragorn managed before Faramir caught his breath again, for he was talking increasingly louder.

"The love of many means nothing to me! It was _your_ love that i needed all those years. I know, i have your official apology on the matter already, as well as your excuse of doing the best for me."

"Faramir, at least try to understand, i was bound to my responsibility in the northern -"

"Bound to your responsibility?! And what of i? Because you were able to pass me off as someone else's child, did that mean that you were relieved of the responsibility of a father? For 36 years i suffered scorn and rejection by he who i thought was my father, the one person on this earth who should have loved me most. However, now i see Denethor's kindness for what it was. He may have never shown me love, yet nor did you, but at least Denethor took responsibility for me."

Aragorn sank into a chair nearby and his head dropped into his hands. "Faramir." Aragorn said desperately, then stopped for a moment, expecting again his enraged son's interruption. When Faramir remained silent, Aragorn continued.

"I understand that there are none now who can verify my words. What the value of my promise is to you i know not, but i do not speak lies, Faramir. Not to anyone. The morning you were born i held you and wept that i had to leave you so soon, for Finduilas and i agreed that it should be so. It was her wish that you be raised as Denethor's son, and i agreed that it would be for the best for you, even though leaving you broke my own heart.

"When your mother dismissed the nurses just moments after your birth, a thought came to me that would allow me to take you and raise you as my son, even though all of Gondor knew that Denethor's wife was to have a second child. I wanted to ask Finduilas to conspire with me, I thought that i would take you secretly while Finduilas acted to mourn that her child had lived no longer than a few minutes in her arms."

"And why did you not do that?" Faramir, now also seated, asked much more composedly, but with little less bitterness.

"Because i knew too well the chances a babe fared in the wild, and for me they were far too low to accept that risk."

"Why did you not take me to Imladris? Long has the House of Elrond been a haven for Elendil's heirs." Faramir asked, his tone growing more even.

That was the question Aragorn was hoping would not be asked. He drew in a deep breath, wondering if after all these years the Valar had finally turned back on him. "In that, Faramir, is the one thing that i do accept your complete blame for. I knew when i was leaving you that i could have taken you to Rivendell and given you the chance to grow up as i did. But i failed do so, and in that, i failed you. That is what i am most sorry for, Faramir, that it was my own cowardice that kept me from doing what was truly best for you.

"We have so much in common, you and i, Faramir. He who i have always considered my father is not so. I never knew my father, and maybe i shall never know him. And when i learned the truth, i too was terribly bitter. I ran from Rivendell and fended alone. But such is not your fate, Faramir. I beg you, stay that we might talk and understand one another. I will tell you that my reason for not returning to Imladris with you was my own shame. I feared Elrond's fury and disappointment to learn of my failing so. Believe me, it was never you i was ashamed of, for you have given me nothing but pride, and every time i heard of a victory lead by Captain Faramir of the Ithilien Rangers my felt swelled. It was myself i was shamed of. I am still ashamed of myself, but now that i did not live up to my responsibility to you. To be honest, i still fear Elrond's reaction, and the reactions of others, if they should ever know that i was in fact a worse father to you than Denethor."

Faramir slowly shook his head, not even knowing what exactly he was denying. He found himself to be exhausted and weak. Once again he felt tears flowing upward from his heart and he would have gladly submitted and released them, but they seemed to recede just before spilling over, robbing him of their cleansing and healing abilities.

Aragorn moved to sit beside Faramir and took his hand. His voice was gentle and he had a soothing tone when he spoke, "Faramir, i know none of this is easy. It is just as hard for me, if in a different manner. But this is the reality of the situation: I do love you, Faramir, my son. Whether you accept or reject that is up to you. Faramir, i am willing to commit to you, to us as father and son, and to always at least try for our relationship no matter what. Are you willing to do the same?"

For a long time Faramir looked into his father's compassionate grey eyes. He felt the long held and hidden anger and bitterness leave him. It was time to move on, Faramir knew; time to go forward with his life and to leave the past behind. Faramir swallowed hard and a hint of a smile touched his lips and expressive blue eyes. Faramir took a renewing breath and nodded, grasping Aragorn's hand.


	16. Grace

Aragorn scarcely heard the tapping on the study door, both men being so entirely worn out by the sudden outpouring of such deep-rooted feelings. Gandalf entered to see them together and even the ancient Maia had a difficult time disguising his smile. Both agreed to the wizard's request that they join him at breakfast.

The banquet table was occupied by Fellowship members as it had been the previous morning, and the four Hobbits were growing just as impatient. When Faramir entered he bowed his greetings to Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin, though now they were getting quite used to such things and no longer turned an odd shade of pink.

When Aragorn took up his place instead of being seated he raised his glass. Everyone else followed suit. "To the present and the future," toasted the King. "That the past may remain behind us. That we may look back only to see the joyful times, lest our former hardships inhibit our progress; for we here have all before now fought our battles and laid them to rest with finality, so should they never have claim to us again. To what is now and to may be, look ahead hopefully, the best is yet to be. Here's to the Shire!"

The toast, and each successive one, was met with a enthusiastic "here!"

"To Eryn Lasgalen!"

"Here!"

"To Erebor!"

"Here!"

"And to Gondor!"

"Here!"

Faramir had truly appreciated the fullest meaning of Aragorn's toast. It seemed to him that it was a great quality in a man to be able to speak to many of something that everyone would understand and realize, and yet speak directly to one within the broader statement. Faramir wondered, though, if the past could really be put behind one so easily. He was fairly sure that there would be a little more involved than that.

After breakfast, Faramir having been engaged in several conversations at once with Frodo and Pippin, and Aragorn having been kept talking to Legolas and Gimli (and agreeing to Minas Tirith having both more trees _and_ more stonework), there was little chance for talk between the father and son. It wasn't until afternoon, when Gandalf decided to organize his walking tour of Minas Tirith, that they were able to speak much to each other again. Though both men appreciated the company, there was much more that needed to be discussed, and both would just as soon have it handled.

Once they were back into the study Faramir turned to Aragorn. "I must ask your forgiveness for some of the things i said this morning. You were right, i was angry and bitter. But i had no right to say -"

Aragorn held up a hand to stop him though. "You owe me no apology at all, Faramir. It is i who should still be apologizing to you."

"But it is i who was not fair in judging you. I understand your intentions now. It is just that... it seems odd to have a real father after 36 years."

Aragorn sighed, and resting a hand on Faramir's shoulder he looked long into his son's eyes. "Faramir, do you forgive me for the mistakes i have made?"

Faramir nodded. "Yes i do."

"Than you are a better man than most and i am proud to call you my son. Your forgiveness is all i need; the last few months i have doubted that i would ever have it, or your acceptance."

"Father, i believe that you did what you honestly thought would turn out best for me. You were very unselfish to leave me with my mother and to let me be raised with Boromir. On reflection, though there were a million times i wished to be somewhere else, to be someone else, i would never have changed knowing mother and Boromir."

"Unselfish would have been taking you to Imladris, damn the consequences for myself. But i knew too that Finduilas and Boromir would not have changed having you around. Boromir spoke much about you on our journey together."

Faramir smiled at this. "I know, Merry had told me much when we remained here together."

"Did he tell you how many times he and Pippin joined forces to outmatch your brother?" Aragorn laughed.

"Indeed. I wish i could have seen it, Boromir bested by Halflings."

"There were certainly enough times that Boromir kept me from being overly grim. He was a good travel companion. Many times have i traveled with Elves, and just as many have i traveled with Gandalf. That was my first journey with Hobbits and a Dwarf, though."

"And if you had it to do over?" Faramir urged him on.

Aragorn thought for a moment before smiling and shaking his head. "No, i would not have changed anything, except for the purpose of our travel together and the enemies encountered. They have become my dearest friends."

"I can see why. Do you wish them to know the truth about us?"

"That is up to you, Faramir. Whoever you deem worthy of this knowledge, you have my agreement. As i told you, i do trust you. But i must tell you, Gandalf does know. There is no way of keeping anything from a Maia."

Faramir nodded. "He's known all along then?"

"Yes. But he is the only one who knows."

"I think Denethor knew, and Boromir. I told you of my dream, but i think i was shown a truth rather than just an illusion. I dreamed too that Boromir told Denethor that even if it were true he would never treat me differently."

Aragorn shook his head. "He said something to me in Lorien that made me wonder if he did in fact know, but I don't know how he could have. He might have had a suspicion, but i know Finduilas would never have said anything. She loved you too much to make vulnerable your future."

"You said that she wanted none to know. Perhaps we should simply honor her wishes?"

"Should you choose that course i shall stand by it."

"I know this much, the people of Gondor can not know. For one it would shatter so many of their images. For another, they would insist on me using my 'birthright,' but i want no such thing. I have enjoyed very much my role as Steward, not for the power, but because i have been able to help you and others, because i feel useful. But i should detest anyone ever calling me a prince."

Aragorn's smile grew board. "We are very much alike, ion-nín, very much. Though i must tell you, there are some people who, if they knew, would see to it that you indeed end up my one and only heir."

"Are you sure Lord Elrond does not already know?" Faramir asked, guessing at Aragorn's meaning. "It is said the Elven lord has the power of foresight."

At that Aragorn rolled his eyes and his hand sought out his temples to massage them. "If anyone knows about the Elven lord's foresight it is i. The truth is, he may well know, but i think if he did i would not have lived this long."

Faramir took Aragorn's hand then. "Father, i do forgive you for not taking me to Imladris. I would not have you do anything for me that could cause trouble for you."

"Forgive me again and it will be the third time," Aragorn pointed out.

Faramir smiled and embraced him. "You have my forgiveness for the third time, Father. As i have heard the Hobbits say, 'Third time pays for all.' I truly hope our paths to the future have finally come together."

"They have if i have anything to say about it," confirmed the king. "So this much is agreed upon then: as far as Gondor knows, we have an excellent working King-Steward relationship. I think that may be best for all involved. The people keep their treasured images of perfection, I still have the best Steward any King could ask for, and you enjoy the work of the office. What about other more personal matters, though? Do you wish Imrahil should know?"

"I think perhaps he should know. It was my uncle who bore me back from battle. Perhaps i should bring it up to him unaccompanied though. He truly may not receive it well that his king is his nephew's father."

"That is well enough. However, if he does not receive it well, tell me quickly that i might double the guard. Odds are good that he may want my head, King and fellow survivor of this war or not."

Aragorn spoke partly in jest, but Faramir took the matter more seriously. "Then it may be best if he does not know. Father, i told you, i want no risk to your well being on account of me."

Focusing on Faramir's resolute eyes, there was no way for Aragorn to mistake the sincerity of his words. "Faramir, i would give my life for you. Do not let me decide for you who you wish to speak to. Imrahil is a reasonable man, he might not talk with me for years, but that is no matter to me. Unless you think he would bear you some ill-will because of me, there is no reason you should not tell him."

"Then i think i shall. He has always been good to me, and i would not keep secrets from him. What of your family though? That decision i will not make, for i know them not but what i have read and heard."

"Elladan and Elrohir i have no reservations about. The worst i would expect from them is a shaking of heads, rolling of eyes, and some comment about mortals. I know well enough that i really should tell Elrond. As you said of Imrahil, he was so good to me and i still consider him my father. As for Arwen...." Aragorn's gaze lowered, for of all he most feared to bring this truth to his immortal beloved.

"Father, she you should tell this to above all. Next to myself, this news will affect her most. If you are to be wed to her, you must not have any secrets of this magnitude; though i should hate it more than anything if i am the cause of any of your loved ones forsaking you."

"No, Faramir, you are right. She must know this, i must confess this to her. It would not be you who would cause her to leave me, but my own actions. I only hope that my honesty will be met by her grace, as it has been yours. You have the grace of the Valar in you, Faramir."

Faramir smiled slightly. "If i do, it is your fault," he said with a discernable wink. "Come, let us leave talk of these things for a time. A round of ale, maybe? After all i have been through, i fear i may take up the smoking pipe myself."

"I don't recommend it," Aragorn said, picking up his own pipe and lighting it. "Keep better with the ale. Let us enjoy this rare afternoon that none shall see again, i am not as comfortable as i used to be in stone cities yet. What say you to a ride?"

"I say we shall have to slip away quickly and unnoticed."

Aragorn grinned. "I can avoid being seen if i wish. Meet me back here in half an hour's time, be ready to ride."


	17. Night Flight

At the appointed time Faramir returned to Aragorn's study, suited for a ride but wearing no emblem. When Aragorn entered Faramir hardly knew who had walked in. It was a transformation from the most powerful mortal man alive to one looking extraordinarily way-worn, but much more comfortable than he had in days.

Aragorn wore no symbols either and when he drew up his cloak about him there was no telling him from any one of the rangers currently in Minas Tirith. "Let's go. If we use the back door of the stables we have a good chance of not being seen at all."

Faramir nodded in agreement. "To where are we riding?"

"Amon Dîn over night?"

Faramir smiled, the idea sounding terrific to him. One thing he missed more than anything about his patrol in Ithilien was mornings in the wild. "Amon Dîn," he said in confirmation.

The two men made their way out from the city unobserved, and when they passed through the make-shift gate on the first level Aragorn prodded his horse into a gallop as though he was fleeing for freedom. Faramir laughed and brought his charger to a racing speed too, not for the sake of catching up Aragorn, but only to feel the rush of freedom that was inherent in riding a charging horse over an open plain such as the Pelennor. Aragorn didn't slow down until they were in sight of the Greywood.

He and Faramir laughed freely, feeling somehow victorious and uninhibited. Both felt greatly more liberated than they had even since the passing of the Shadow. Aragorn cried out as loud as he possibly could, just because no one was around to hear.

"I don't know about you, but i feel great," Aragorn said with a huge smile to Faramir.

Faramir laughed appreciatively. "I haven't felt so good since before Boromir departed last summer." Faramir's laughter abated then, though he was still in high spirits. For years Boromir had been the one person other than Gandalf that Faramir could talk to, and when his brother left for Rivendell Faramir had sensed that their parting was a final one. Now, though, he found himself able to laugh again and thought that perhaps the future he had long awaited was finally come.

As they rode through Greywood toward Amon Dîn the sun began to make it's way downward to the western side of the world. The ride through the wood was peaceful and comfortable to the two rangers, almost in contrast to the energetic freedom they felt riding out from the city unnoticed and unaccompanied. Faramir could easily tell that Aragorn enjoyed the presence of forest birds and small peaceable creatures as much as he always had himself.

Ahead in the distance Aragorn spotted a clearing and they decided to make camp for the night. The smell of a campfire in the cool night air brought a sense of right to Aragorn and he was happy to enjoy it without constantly looking over his shoulder for a change. For the first time in years, Aragorn was feeling relaxed.

He searched through his pack for his pipe and pouch and settled back against the body of a large fallen tree. Faramir had stretched out where he had a good view of the clear night sky, an arm behind his head. There was quiet in the small glade and neither man missed the noise of the city, nor even the proper meal they would have eaten a couple hours earlier.

After a while Faramir turned to Aragorn, an awful thought having just come to him. "Do you think we should have left word with someone?"

Aragorn just shook his head. "Let them worry for a few hours. Too much comfort weakens a person," he said wryly. He was silent for a moment then, as if contemplating continuing. "Tell me of all that i have missed over the years, Faramir. How old were you when you took up the sword and bow?"

"In earnest? I was thirteen. Apparently that is a late age to begin."

Aragorn shrugged. "Everyone is different. At what age did you learn to read?"

Faramir's smile was at once both sad and proud. "I began to read in my fifth year. My mother taught me just before she died."

"And you have been studying ever since?" Aragorn asked, yet he already knew the answer.

"You could say that," Faramir chuckled quietly. "Boromir used to laugh that if shooting an arrow only required the use of one hand that i would be reading a book with the other."

"That's excellent. I am rather envious of all the time you have had with the White Tower's library all to yourself. What have you enjoyed learning of the most?"

"Westernesse," Faramir replied without hesitation. "Everything from its beginning until the island collapsed into the sea has fascinated me ever since mother used to tell me the stories, as have the tales of Eärendil." Faramir again found the star in the glittering multitude. "It is extraordinary to think that that star is a silmaril of Feanor's craft, bound to Eärendil who sails his ship through the heavens as he did the sea."

Aragorn smiled reflectively, also finding the star again. "Númenor is in your very blood, Faramir. As is Eärendil."

A questioning look crossed Faramir's face as a realization came to him. "Do i then share in the long life of those with Númenórean blood?"

"Indeed, and it is my hope that we shall have out our long years together. Since the rank of Captain of the Ithilien Rangers is in need of filling now that you are Steward, who do you think most capable of the office?"

Faramir paused for a moment in thought, though not of candidates for the captaincy. This was the first time to his recollection that he had ever been consulted about promoting one of his men. Denethor used to promote them without even telling Faramir, causing Faramir untold grief every time a man turned up performing a different office and wearing different insignia from the day before.

Denethor had known of their abilities little better than Aragorn would have, and Faramir knew much about each of his men that would have helped in properly placing them. How many times had Faramir found men promoted based on their father's name who had utterly no desire to be in command, while those who were hopeful of advancing and worthy of it were left behind. 'Small wonder i couldn't hold Osgiliath,' Faramir thought. 'It was as though he intentionally set me up to fail.'

Yet here Aragorn was asking his opinion, working with him, taking time to talk to him as father and son, rather than commander and soldier. It so happened that Faramir had a recommendation for the position already and they agreed that, providing the soldier accepted, it was a decided matter. Faramir took his Stewardship of Gondor seriously and intended to see to it that its army was comprised of soldiers who wanted to defend the kingdom and were happy at their posts.

"Tell me, father, what shall happen if you do not have another heir who the people can call their king one day? We have decided to keep our secret as such for their good, but would it be best to reveal..." Faramir trailed off briefly. "If you passed and it was left to me to claim the crown they would probably lynch me for trying to usurp the kingdom."

Aragorn laughed dryly. "The people of Gondor have always been a little quick-tempered about who claims to lead them. If you think it best for the future that we be up front with them, against the possibility of unforeseen complications...."

"I really don't want to be titled your heir, to be honest. I don't want the crown to fall to me, i would rather they do not have any clue that it should."

Aragorn unreservedly beamed to hear such words as he himself had often spoken come from his son. "You are too much like to me. Though i promise you that i will do my best to see that you are not stuck with such an inheritance as i am. Speaking of which, has any fine, fortunate lady caught your attention yet, my son?"


	18. Morning Theft

Aragorn noticed Faramir's changed expression even by the firelight. A certain light seemed to glow mutedly in his eyes. A wisp of a smile slipped over Faramir's features.

"Oh, i see," Aragorn said with a grin. "Tell me, she is fair?"

"Indeed," Faramir said, just barely sighed. "Fairer than any lady in Gondor."

"Ah! So she is not Gondorian?"

Faramir shook his head.

"Let me guess, Dol Amroth? A lady so fair may possess the legendary Elven blood of Amroth."

"No, nor from Dol Amroth. She is from Rohan."  
"Rohan? A strange chance that you should meet...." Aragorn trailed off with sudden realization. This was swiftly becoming a little awkward to the elder man. "Unless i miss my guess," he continued, hoping in the back of his mind that for once he did miss his guess, "you speak of the lady Éowyn."

"You do not miss your guess, father," Faramir replied

Aragorn took a deep breath. Yes, this had indeed gotten a little peculiar. 'Far be it from me to stand in the way of anyone's love,' the older Ranger thought. He just hoped that Faramir would not be too impetuous about all this, though he realized that perhaps it might have been due to the fact that he had been waiting 67 years for Arwen's hand.

Or maybe it was the fact that he could have sworn that Éowyn had been desperately in love with him only just weeks earlier. Aragorn feared that this would prove itself no more substantial. After all, they had both suffered under the poison of the Nazgul and had both been left behind afterward and were under the influence of athelas. Aragorn knew that these two people were pretty near as opposite as two could be, and that only time would tell. But he also knew that it was all too easy to make misjudgments when trying to provide someone comfort and consolation.

"You will take things slowly, will you not, Faramir? Love should be approached as if it were a strange cave: cautiously. You never know just how deep it goes, nor what lies within."

Faramir smiled. "I recognize the value of those words. Fear not, though, i have no desire to rush into anything. She is with her people now, and i have my Stewardship to attend to. As i see it, if she can wait, so can i."

Aragorn sighed of relief. "You are wise beyond your years yet, my son." Aragorn decided to let that matter sort itself out, or at least to allow it to slide for this night. He prodded at the fire a bit but it did little to stir the flames any higher.

"I think we should let it die for the night. As for my part, I'm ready for a little sleep," Aragorn said stretching out. It felt so good to sleep on solid ground again, years of doing just that he had grown so accustomed to.

Faramir agreed that sleep was coming well upon him too and before long both men were sound asleep, more at peace than either had been in many winters. As Faramir began to drift into sleep he thought that getting adjusted to having a real father after all those years was a little less hard than even he would have thought.

He looked over at Aragorn who was already deeply sleeping and smiled. Their resemblance was one few people would readily catch, for it was more behavioral and internal and Faramir had more taken after Finduilas's appearance. Looking at the man he now called father, love and respect were kindled in his heart, instead of the fear and desperation and sadness there used to be. "_Quel du, adar_," Faramir whispered in the Elvish tongue he had learned.

---

While the father and son slept their first truly comfortable, peaceful sleep outside the city, Minas Tirith was fastly approaching a state of panic. No one had seen either the King or the Steward since morning. No one had heard anything of them, not even Mithrandir.

It was generally thought that perhaps both had retired early, having been so hard worked for the passed week, but now there was no trace of them. When one of the young lads at the stable mentioned a couple of suspicious men who looked unkempt and wore their cloaks about them and their hoods up, even though the day was quite warm enough, panic spread quickly. The two most powerful men in all of Middle-earth had disappeared and it was rashly assumed that the dubious characters seen leaving the stable and, subsequently, fleeing the city were in fact Haradrim come to slay their leaders in an attempted takeover.

The only ones who seemed to think that these assumptions were incredibly ridiculous were those who knew Aragorn too well. Some became suspicious of Gandalf, Legolas, and Gimli as well because of their nonchalance about the matter, and the fact that their races were always rather questionable to the Gondorian way of thinking. No one seemed able to blame anything on Hobbit, though. Not even the pounds of food which had been disappearing with disturbing frequency every day since they arrived.

Soldiers were assembled to ride out and find their King and Steward, but fortunately for Aragorn and Faramir, Gandalf would not hear of them leaving the city until daylight. The wizard also made a point of mentioning to those who were leading the "rescue mission" that they would benefit greatly from Elven senses.

However, Legolas refused to venture forth at night, claiming that the natural luminosity of the Eldar would give them away to potential enemies at night. The Elf knew perfectly well that all the matter consisted of was a couple of Rangers who were still more comfortable in a forest than a city; Legolas himself felt the same way and wanted to allow them a night's peace before they were inundated with the work of the Reunited Kingdom again.

---

__

Quel du, adar = Good night, father


	19. I Woke Up in a Strange Place

Morning dawned softly on the two sleeping Rangers. When Faramir woke the sky was just beginning its metamorphosis from black to grey. He breathed in the scent of morning in the wild - the cool, night-tinged air, the refreshing dew-covered foliage, the trace of the smoldered fire from the night before. Across from him lay his father, still sleeping, wearing a countenance of serenity that could have been Elven, if it weren't for his beard and mustache and lack of ear-points.

Faramir rose and went into the woods looking for something in the way of breakfast. A short while after Faramir left Aragorn too woke. Morning was now providing a little more light, but night's cool remained. The last of the stars had been washed from the night sky already, but the sun was not yet high enough that the man could guess at what hour it was. The first bird had yet to sing and it was within those magic morning moments that Aragorn felt all the world was still.

For a moment he almost turned to see if Legolas was still keeping watch, so deep was the habit ingrained in just a few long months. Instead he turned to see if Faramir was asleep, but he saw him nowhere in the clearing. Instead, all that he saw was his son's sword. A shot of panic jolted Aragorn fully awake, but he quelled it quickly and sat still, opening his senses to every sound, sight, and scent around him. It was these moments when he wished for the mysterious Elven ability to sense calm or unrest, malice or good fortune in the very air.

'Think rationally,' he told himself. 'Your still too edgy not to be wakened if.... Don't be unreasonable. No one captured him, you are over-reacting. You hated it when Elrond did that. You're also talking to yourself. Did Elrond ever do that? No, worse, he talked to Glorfindel and Erestor,' he thought somewhat dismally.

Aragorn had yet to fully talk himself out of unnecessary fear. Gimli had totally disagreed with his pardoning those Haradrim last week, even though they had sworn an oath of their allegiance to Gondor. What if the dwarf was actually right about something?

"Faramir?" Aragorn called out hesitantly, just as the younger man stepped from the woods.

"I am here," Faramir replied, causing Aragorn to laugh at his own imprudence. "Here. Breakfast, such as it is," Faramir said offering his father a handful of black and red berries.

"Thank you," Aragorn said, reclining against the fallen tree as he had the night before. "You won't believe this, when i woke and found you gone i feared that you were captured by Easterlings in an attempt to bait me, and capturing us both, pull off a overthrow of the new kingdom."

Faramir laughed sympathetically. "I think it will take us both some while to get over our anxieties about the world."

"Fortunately, we have some while. When do you think we should go back?"

"Midday? We probably won't get this opportunity often, we should enjoy it now."

Aragorn nodded, agreeing. "You think the city is in alarm yet?"

"I think they have been since night. I can picture the whole of Minas Tirith running from gate to gate with torches and lanterns calling for us," Faramir said with a slight smirk.

"They probably think we've both been captured by Easterlings," Aragorn said, unable to suppress a snicker. "I'm sure Gandalf has things under control."


	20. All Flowers in Time

With the first glimmer of day the Captains of Gondor refused to wait any longer, no more willing to wait for the wizard and the elf. Beregond, who had yet to leave the city for his new place in Ithilien, wanted to trust in Mithrandir but when he thought that every hour could be bringing not only his well-loved Steward, nee Captain, but also his King to danger and torture in the south lands, he could not longer justify them biding their time.

Finally Legolas consented to leading the soldiers, with Gandalf and Gimli, out of the city and using his Elven senses to help find the King and Faramir. It took a lot of restraint for the Elf prince not to roll his eyes when he was told them the suspected Haradrim were seen fleeing toward Greywood. Fortunately, someone asked what was on his mind, sparing the Elf the inane question.

"If the invaders are indeed from Harad, why were they going westward and not south?" one of the Ithilien Rangers asked of a Gondorian captain.

"Obviously they are now on the trail of King Éomer and our King's Elven brothers." replied the captain in a tone of arrogance.

"But were only the two Easterlings seen? Why did no one see the King and Steward?"

"Of course they did not! Those two seen were scouts, and the real aggressors did not abduct them until nightfall," the captain put forward off the cuff, still wearing his air of superiority.

Legolas only barely stifled his laughter. The tale these men were putting together was getting quite entertaining. Legolas had never known that mortal Men had such vivid imaginations.

As the band left Minas Tirith, dawn's first rays were just reaching and searching over the Pelennor. For a while Legolas lead them along the direction the father and son had rode in, but instead of stopping at the edge of Greywood, Legolas lead them further east toward Stonewain Valley before going north into the woods. There were no traversable roads through the forest and Legolas decided that pretending to read signs of a trail with these mortals was going to be very amusing indeed.

Though Gimli hardly agreed that the trip was amusing, they both decided that the soldiers had it coming to them for not listening to Gandalf's advice to not get worried in the first place. Gandalf had caught on to Legolas's ruse immediately and decided to play along as well. After all, it wasn't every day that a wizard was able to have a bit of fun with the Second Born of Eru. For several hours they walked through Greywood, the men unaware that they were walking back east now and would probably be in Minas Tirith again by nightfall.

---

When the sun had climbed high above, Aragorn and Faramir decided it was time to return to Gondor's capital. As much as they were enjoying the peace of the wood, they felt relaxed enough to get back into the operation of the Kingdom. They found their borrowed horses off grazing and rode back to home, talking over their long years apart.

Aragorn spoke mostly of the hunt for Gollum and his hand in guarding the Shire. Faramir had decided that he greatly wished to visit the Shire one day and maybe even see the legendary Mithlond where the great Círdan dwelt. After everything he had heard from the Hobbits and from Mithrandir, he felt as though he had already been there, but had never had the joy of experiencing the journey.

When Aragorn spoke of Arwen, Faramir asked what Aragorn himself had been wondering. "Do you think she will accept me, father? I told you before, i would hate it terribly if my presence caused something to go amiss between you."

Aragorn sighed and felt depressed at the thought of that possibility. But looking at his son, he knew only one thing: "Whatever happens shall happen for a reason. You are first and foremost in my life now, Faramir. No matter what Arwen's reaction, i would not lose you for anything. Though i feel it only fair to turn the tables and ask you what you think my presence might cause between yourself and Éowyn."

Faramir shrugged. "I really don't know. I wish i did, but in fact, i hardly know her thus far and i can not yet anticipate her reaction. I know that only in time may this all become clear. Still, i do know that i will never reject my father," Faramir said, riding close enough to clasp hands with Aragorn. The term "Reunited Kingdom" had a very different meaning to these two than it did to others.


	21. The Man that Got Away

As the two riders made their way across Pelennor, at a much more relaxed pace than the last time, the sun was well nestled in the last peaks of Ered Nimrais. Golden rays streamed over Minas Tirith, making the city shine like a dragon's horde of treasure. The breeze coming off the Anduin was sending the White Tree flags and banners high in waves.

Aragorn smiled at the sight, remembering Boromir's words, "The Tower Guard shall take up the call that the Lords of Gondor have returned." Aragorn felt a pang of grief to think that this, Boromir's favorite sight, would remain ever more unseen by the fallen Gondorian. Then Aragorn realized how Faramir must feel. His son's uneven exhale told him he was right.

"The White City used to be called Minas Anor," Faramir mused. "So many say that it was because it was here that Anárion lived, some hold that it is because the city has such a view of the sunrise in the east. I believe that it is because the city looks alight of the passion of her people at sunset. There was little that Boromir loved more than the sight of this city."

"You should not count yourself as little to him, Faramir. Boromir cared more for you than any else. That much was immediately evident to me in the short time that i knew him."

Faramir thought on Aragorn's words, knowing them to be right. He thought of the many times that Boromir and Denethor had spoken privately after Denethor had told Faramir to be gone. So frequently Boromir would come into Faramir's apartments, fuming with anger at Denethor. He was always seeking to vent his irritation at his father with Faramir, knowing that his brother would not be likely to defend the old man, yet neither to attack him, which would cause Boromir further upset at his own split emotions.

Almost every time that same scene occurred between the brothers it ended with Boromir telling Faramir how much having a brother meant to him. That and a pint of ale to quench the trouble Denethor was always so able to instigate.

Faramir now rode beside Aragorn, still hardly able to believe that his life had changed so completely, and with it his impression of a father figure. A chill air swept across the plain, the sun having disappeared, taking its warmth along. The two drew up their cloaks and hoods and rode onward.

"I imagine the city will be very relieved to see us returned alive," Aragorn commented. "I feel a little guilty that we probably put them through a scare when neither of us could be found."

"As do i, but i think you were right in saying that Gandalf likely has everything under control. So too your friends Legolas and Gimli. Surely they know you well enough to know that you and i simply sought a little peace."

"You are right, Faramir. Between the three of them, the citizens will be not at all surprised to see us return. It will be just as Boromir once said to me, the Tower Guards shall take up the call: the Lords of Gondor have returned," Aragorn said with a smile.

Unbeknownst to them, a group of very tired, very hungry, and very upset Gondorians had just emerged from the Greywood, and the two riders had been spotted by an Elf, whose inherent mischievous merriment had been reawakened.

---

Legolas spun to face the men following him, who were currently fuming that the Elf, Wizard, and grumpy little Dwarf had just made fools of them all, leading them in a circle. When the soldiers saw the White City, gleaming in the moonlight, there was nearly a mutiny. Legolas assured them, though, that all traces lead here again, and when he saw Aragorn and Faramir drawing nearer the provisional gates again, another plan came to mind.

Legolas pointed to the mounted men in the distance. "There are your Southron spies, returned to the scene of the crime. Listen carefully to me and you may capture them without incident. Haradrim are very dangerous, as you know. First, do not let them remove their hoods."

One from Ithilien questioned this directive, but Legolas had this too well planned. He and Aragorn had been joking each other like this for too many years, ever since they began hunting Gollum together, for him to allow this opportunity to go by. Legolas explained that some Haradrim wear rings pierced into their ears which hold a very deadly poison. All one has to do is break the ring and touch the poison and nothing will recall them; thus their hoods must remain up.

This was accepted by the men, if not fully understood. They reckoned that an Elf would know these things. By this time Gandalf and Gimli had decided it was best just to be quiet on this Odyssey, they were only along for the journey, as it was obviously completely concerning Legolas and Aragorn. Gimli found himself wishing he had stayed with the Hobbits in the Citadel.

Legolas also told them to be sure that neither man was allowed to speak until he had a chance to question them. He claimed that some from Harad were trained in vocal imitations and that they would be able to very convincingly mimic the King and the Steward. He also made it very clear that they must be treated well and not harmed in any way, for if they were to ascertain any information about the "abducted" they would have to be willing to cooperate.

Having made clear all of his information, Legolas gave them the signal to charge the riders. "He will be hard-pressed to best me this time," Legolas said with a confident grin to Gandalf and Gimli as they remain behind by the forest's edge. Gandalf just shook his head, trying to hide the twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

"It's always a competition with you Elves, isn't it?" Gimli said, still somewhat annoyed that he had just spent a day being dragged through a dense forest, especially when a city filled with very nice stonework lay just ahead.


	22. Mankind in Quotation Marks

Before they reached the gates and called for the guard to open up, Aragorn heard the soldiers across the Pelennor. He turned to Faramir with a guilty smile. "They must have sent a search party for us. Look across the field. They're glad to see us, i'm sure."  
"Indeed. Let's ride out to meet them," Faramir suggested.

As the gap closed between Aragorn and Faramir and the seething soldiers, the two on horseback noticed that most of the Gondorians were brandishing swords and looking angry. In a split moment, before they even realized what was going on, they were swarmed, pulled from their horses, and immediately gagged and blindfolded. Both Aragorn and Faramir were too shocked to react very quickly.

They could hear the men talking about Southron spies, but neither father nor son believed for a second that these men, the very men they had both fought beside, would take them for men of Harad. They couldn't. So then what was this all about? There was no way their own men could be so angry at them for simply spending a couple of days away from the city that they would rebel like this. Both were far too confused to panic at the possibility.

They could tell they were being taken up through the city. It was fairly busy for night though. It seemed to take them an hour to pass the seven gates, then they heard conversation regarding where to put them.

Faramir recognized one guard's voice. "The prince mentioned nothing about that. Maybe we should take them to the king's study. He said to keep them comfortable until he came to question them."

'The prince?' thought both father and son simultaneously, believing them to be referring to Imrahil. None of this made the slightest bit of sense. They were pulled into the study, the soldiers having agreed it was the safest place for them.

That was before someone suggested the dungeon cells of Minas Tirith that hadn't been used in years. Aragorn and Faramir were now extraordinarily irritated with their men. How could they have arrested them on a suspicion without even looking at their faces? Being walked along to the depths of the city each man made up his mind about a few of the captains in their companies.

"Split them up, use two cells," called one. "We don't want them helping each other, the prince would be furious."

'The prince would be?! And what about the King?' Aragorn thought angrily. He knew better than to resist at this point, but when he got his hands on Imrahil....

It seemed like maybe an hour later when they heard guards approach again and open their cells. They were silently ushered back above ground, much to their collective relief. The guards walked them a little further, then left them, and they heard doors close behind them. By just the whine of the hinge Aragorn could tell they had returned to his study.

Then there was the sound subdued laughter. Someone removed their gags but not their blindfolds. Aragorn noted that he had not heard anyone step behind him, but that the soft laughter had been heard coming from across the room. Still, the ranger could not sense more than one other presence in the room, an ability he was renowned for.

His first reaction to shout at who he had guessed was Imrahil until he ran out of breath was thought better of. Aragorn had a hint that this was quite a large scale set-up. He nudged Faramir slightly to signal him to follow along. When their blindfolds were removed Aragorn's eyes were as daggers at the irrepressible Elven grin facing him.

Faramir was just left confounded and speechless. He would have expected this kind of joke from Boromir, but from an Elf?

"You've been waiting to get me ever since Rohan, haven't you?" Aragorn fairly growled.

Legolas merely nodded.

"Yes. Very good, i admit, very clever indeed," Aragorn said slowly. "You might be careful of your wine, _mellon_. It wouldn't be difficult for me a obtain a bit of the water that runs in the Enchanted River, you know."  
"Perhaps, _mellon_, you would do better to have a sip of it yourself. You look like you need some sleep." Legolas's smirk would have been infuriating to the older ranger if it weren't so contagious and if he weren't so used to it.

Faramir was beginning to understand the situation fully and actually to admire Legolas's quick thinking. As the Elven Prince of Mirkwood explained to them what he had put the soldiers through that afternoon, Faramir actually appreciated all that went into the double practical joke on the race of mortal man.

"So you see," Legolas said in closing, "i was actually doing you both a favor, buying you more time to rest. Besides, i thought you could use a diversion, as you are both easily wearied by too much praise and honor, i know."

It was with an almost feral smile that the King swore his revenge to his closest friend as they embraced as brothers. Aragorn had decided that he would bide his time in finding a suitable response with which to catch his old friend unawares. All he wanted at the moment was sleep, and Faramir seconded the motion. The next few days promised to hold more than enough to keep the both of them busy.

---

_Yes we are getting a little off topic, but by next chapter Aragorn and Faramir will wish for the same sort of light-hearted Elven mischief that wood-elves are notorious for._


	23. Smile of Light that Brings the Rain

A good month had passed by after Aragorn and Faramir's "capture" before either of them had any rest to speak of. There was a great deal of explaining to do about their disappearance and reappearance, in which Legolas did take his share. Moreover, there was a great amount of work to be done concerning the city itself. A lot of reconstruction was underway, but with emissaries still coming in from all over Middle-earth the work was slowly accomplished.

As a rule, Aragorn and Faramir had agreed to end the day's work with a meal together and counsel on the matters of the day and what would be done on the morrow. Both were greatly enjoying their new lives as father and son and the people of Minas Tirith were very happy with their new King and Steward. Together they were bringing some very long overdue changes to the kingdom.

Faramir wondered how he could have been bitter with Aragorn that day after the revelation. Now that he finally had a real father his life was nothing as it had once been. There was no more nervous fear every time someone walked passed his quarters. Many were the times they would both dine with the soldiers of Gondor. Faramir felt he could tell Aragorn anything that was on his mind, or even share poetry with him, without cruel criticisms. He no longer had to strive hard to win the love of the man he called father.

Faramir felt that all the years he endured Denethor were well worth having a father like Aragorn. Every night before they went their separate ways Faramir thanked him, never saying exactly what for; but Aragorn always returned the thanks too, for he knew what Faramir was thankful for and he was more than grateful for the same.

One evening at supper Aragorn asked Faramir if he had yet spoken to his uncle. Faramir replied that he had not, mostly because his duties of office were many, as Aragorn well knew.

"Perhaps you should not work tomorrow, Faramir," Aragorn suggested. "Take the day and speak with Imrahil, if you still think that the best course."

"I would rather not take the day, honestly. I am really much happier at my work, though i do intend to speak with Imrahil before long," Faramir said truthfully.

Aragorn nodded. "_Im iston, _Faramir," he said with a smile, knowing Faramir really did love the work of the office of the Steward. "Still, the kingdom will survive, and you need the time with your uncle. Please, as a favor to me?"

Faramir smiled, knowing he was defeated, and consented to let the work of his office alone for a day. By the next evening Faramir dearly wished he had refused his father's request and continued with his work. As it turned out, Imrahil rejected Faramir's news entirely and was outraged with him for saying such a thing about his kinswoman.

That night Faramir came to supper with his father feeling utterly downcast. His son's mood did not go unnoticed by the king. "He didn't take it well?" Aragorn asked gently.

Faramir fought back the urge to break. "Not well," was all he said.

"I am sorry, Faramir. I should speak to him on your behalf," Aragorn said truly feeling regretful that he insisted Faramir take the day for that purpose.

Before Faramir could insist otherwise he felt a tugging at his tunic. He looked to find leaping into his lap the same grey kitten who jumped out at him the night he went to Aragorn's study. It immediately curled up in his lap, looking so content Faramir had not the heart to coax it to move. Besides, it helped to dispel his sadness at Imrahil's denial.

Aragorn grinned at the picture before him. "So you have met Mithrandir?"

Faramir looked questioningly at the kitten. "Mithrandir?"

"It seemed to fit him," shrugged the king. "He's one of Minas Tirith's finest hunters, with the exception of her Steward, of course. That little fellow has brought me more tributes than most of the envoys have."

Faramir laughed at the thought of the feline on his lap laying a mouse before the throne. "Well, your hunter may recognize you as King, but he tried to attack me one night about a month ago."

Aragorn arched a brow, an idea suddenly coming to mind. "Faramir, may i ask your assistance in a matter?"

After a brief confab both men wore rather devious grins. Aragorn rose to leave and before going out from the hall he turned back. "By the way, I will talk to Imrahil in the morning. If he has anger, i would have it directed at me, not at you the blameless."

---

It was later the next afternoon that Aragorn called a group to the court, including the various captains who were stationed in the city, Faramir, a number of guards, and Legolas, Gandalf, and Gimli.

After a few of the fairly pompous words of rhetoric that Aragorn had found impressed most of Minas Tirith, the king called forth one Captain of Gondor. The man in question happened to be the same who lead the "capture" of the King and Steward a month back, Captain Aranur.

Aragorn had asked Faramir to read off a decree regarding the penalty of the captain's actions. Aragorn himself simply could not handle it. Seeing as the captain knelt before him, pale and trembling slightly, he was hard-put to sober the laughter that threatened to slip out. He could not even come near making eye-contact with Legolas, especially as Gimli walked away in disgust. And when Gandalf thundered his disapproval of what Faramir had finished reading, Aragorn thought it all too perfect.

The king found himself wondering in particular how the young captain managed to be so convincing, but then he thought that this scenario might have been a little too realistic for him. Aragorn refused to listen to Gandalf's censure and he commanded one of the guards to have the captain removed and "finished" after the White Wizard gave up and left as well.

Once Legolas had finally recovered from the shock of his friend's wholly uncharacteristic behavior, the Elf walked up to the dais and looked straight into Aragorn's eyes. "Have you actually gone mad?" he asked, still uncertain of what he'd heard.

Aragorn stared back, hoping his acting ability was as good as those around him. "I am surely not mad. That man, as you heard, is, or by now was, guilty of high treason."

"High treason?! I told you everything that happened, that poor man had nothing to do with it. I suppose you will charge me next?"

Finally a momentary break allowing Aragorn a small bit of the laughter was dying to release, even if it was only a dismissive chuckle. "Legolas, please, we have been friends for many years. Besides, i do not wish any trouble with Thranduil. The fact is that Captain Aranur did commit treason. He should have been more careful."

"I do not believe you," Legolas stated flatly.

"_Ai, mellon-nín_, you know well enough that no one ever says unless they do very much believe it." Aragorn himself could hardly believe he was actually selling this.

Legolas looked at all the dead somber faces in the hall, especially Faramir's. They were actually all very serious about this. Legolas stared at Aragorn in bewilderment. "I never expected this from you, Estel," he said shaking his head before he walked out in shock. He could simply not come to terms with the thought of his dear friend acting like he did. Since when was Aragorn ever so merciless with anything that hadn't come from Mordor? Never had he seen the flaw of mortality so plainly.

Legolas walked out of the hall and he nearly tripped over Gandalf, Gimli, the tower guard, and Captain Aranur seated together sharing frothing ale and smoking pipeweed. The four conspirators broke into laughter at the sight of the confused Elf, who then turned to stare fiercely at Aragorn walking toward them.

Aragorn put one arm around his Elven-brother's shoulder and accepted a tankard of ale from Gimli. "Are we fair enough now?" Aragorn asked simply.

"I have always been fair enough," Legolas replied, "but as for you...."

"Right... and what was that pitiful excuse you came up with about Haradrim wearing poisoned rings?"

"At least _i _have never been imprisoned by my own people!"

Gandalf and Gimli knew well enough that their "discussion" would likely continue well into the night. They decided to remove their festivity elsewhere and see if they couldn't pick up a few Hobbits on the way. Faramir agreed to join them, having learned that there was little more fun to be had than a party in which Hobbits were involved.


	24. Eternal Life

The next day Faramir woke to a gentle rapping at his chamber door. He only just restrained a cry of anguish as he felt the vibrations from the knock fill the room and reverberate loudly in his head. It took an extraordinary amount of energy for the young man to just whisper "come in."

Aragorn entered looking sympathetic. "Drink this," he said handing Faramir a glass. "I really should have warned you about Shire ale."

"Is that what happened to me? It feels more like i've been trampled by the entire Rohirrim," Faramir groaned, trying to sit upright. "How can Halflings possibly drink so much of that?"

Aragorn shook his head. "There are a lot of things about Hobbits that neither of us will ever understand. If you want to know what i think, they are more favored by the Valar than Elves are."

"Only if you are referring to Elves who keep company with Mortals," came a familiar voice from out in the hall and Minas Tirith's only elf entered the room. "I came to offer my apologies."

"Good, it's about time you did," Aragorn said. "Revenge only goes so far, we still deserve an apology for having us imprisoned in our city."

Legolas just smiled. "Not that, _mellon_. I mean about handing Faramir that glass of Dorwinion," Legolas said turning to Faramir. "I am not used to Mortals not being able to take it; but if you look on the bright side, at least you slept off most of the pain."

"Forget it happened," Faramir said. "I have no recollection of drinking more than a couple pints of Shire ale. Other than that, it's not nearly as bad as the time Boromir got me drunk when we were young." Just the thought of the way he'd felt that morning made him flinch. Faramir glanced to the window and noticed the light was dim and tinted with color. "How early is it yet? I can not have slept long, it was well passed midnight surely before i got to bed."

Aragorn and Legolas exchanged glances. "It was indeed long passed midnight, but you were asleep before you reached a bed," Aragorn said feeling very empathetic for his son.

"I think the term, Aragorn, is 'passed out cold,'" Legolas corrected, also feeling rather sorry for the poor human. "What's more, you will note that the light is not in the east, but in fact in the west, young Faramir. Soon the heavens will be shimmering with the light of Elbereth."

"Elbereth, the Queen of Valinor?" Faramir asked, ignoring pain for the chance of more enlightenment.

Legolas nodded.

"I have learned but little of the star-queen from the texts here. You can tell me more though, can you not, Legolas?" Never did the desire to learn rest in Faramir.

Legolas grinned. "Where is your _Golodhrim_ blood that your thirst for knowledge is so great? I will tell you all i know, if you have the patience to listen to it."

Aragorn left the room then, having heard it all more than one. He promised to return to Faramir with something for supper.

As it happened, Aragorn nearly literally ran into Sam coming from the cold-room of the Citadel.

"Sam..." Aragorn whispered. "There are no cooks in the kitchen still are there?" Aragorn had learned a few things over the years about the sensitivity of the skilled staff of Minas Tirith.

Sam looked a little concerned at Aragorn's secrecy. "No there aren't, Mr. Strider. Would you be needing some help with those vegetables?"

"Yes, Sam. Actually, i was hoping you would help me else wise as well."

"Sure, anything i can do for you."

"I will be leaving tonight, hopefully just for a short time. But i was hoping you might keep Faramir company. I think the two of you would get along very well."

"Of course, Mr. Strider, i'd be happy to." Sam momentarily went a bit quiet then. "He is all right, isn't he, Captain Faramir? I had no idea Merry and Pippin had given him that much of the ale you had in or i would have put a stop to that."

Aragorn smiled at Sam's perpetual concern. "He will be fine, Sam. There is nothing to worry about. Fact is, while your ale may have been a bit much for him, it was the Elven wine that really put him under."

Sam didn't even want to know what strange effects Elven wine could have. He took over preparing a small dinner for Faramir and promised to bring it to the Steward's apartment. Aragorn returned to find Faramir contentedly listening to everything that Legolas knew about stars and everything related to them. When his friend entered again Legolas decided to leave them, promising Faramir there was yet much more to be learned.

Aragorn sat down beside the bed. "Sam is bringing you supper, probably something better than i could have managed." Aragorn cringed, a repressed thought resurfacing. "That's something i need to warn you about, Faramir. Don't ever eat anything Éowyn has cooked. Never."  
Faramir arched a brow in question, but quickly resumed his normal countenance, finding it painful to use too many facial muscles at once.

"Just trust me on that," Aragorn said, seriously hoping his son would heed the advice. "In any case, i wanted to tell you that i am going to be leaving the city tonight. I don't know for what length of time, i am going with Gandalf."

"Very well. I will do all that i can in your place, father. To where are you journeying with Mithrandir?"

"I can not say, i think he intends to take me up to the Mindolluin hallows. But it must remain a secret, just between you and i, until i return."

Faramir nodded his confidentiality. "You seek the scion of Nimloth?"

"Yes. If all goes well, that shall be the herald to me of that which i have long awaited."

Faramir smiled, "Then may it go well for you, father," he said embracing Aragorn. "Just promise me one thing?"

"Anything under the stars, Faramir."

"If you and Gandalf intend to slip away unnoticed, doff your hoods," Faramir said almost wryly.

Aragorn laughed, "I'll go one better, i intend to wear my Elven cloak and stone. I could not possibly be mistaken for a Southron spy thusly."

Faramir only grinned.

"Is there anything you want before i go? A glass of wine, maybe?" Aragorn half-teased.

"Well, now that you mention it," Faramir said, "all of my parchment i have taken to my study since i began the office. I would greatly like to make a few notes on what Legolas told me this evening."

Aragorn beamed of pride for his son. "You have only to ask, Faramir. That is an excellent idea. Future generations will be very grateful for your writing."

That night Aragorn and Gandalf disappeared into the shadows to ascend the hallowed places of the mountain west of the city. When the king returned bearing a sapling to be planted in the courtyard where the old tree had withered, Faramir greeted him with gladness.

That day had the Steward and Prince Imrahil spoken at much length. Faramir did not know what transpired between his father and uncle, but it was clear that Aragorn's words had least caused Imrahil to realize that he was one of only two people in all the world that Faramir could now call family. Imrahil also came to see that his rage belonged not with his nephew, nor with the King, though Aragorn told him it should. But rather Imrahil was able to see a dimension beyond what most Men perceive to recognize that the root of the affair had been Denethor's treatment of Finduilas.

Aragorn and Faramir had been watching the sun set one evening in the courtyard where the new tree was. Raindrops from that afternoon's shower remained yet on the white plantlet and they reflected and refracted the glorious setting sun. In the gloaming, Faramir turned to see blossoms budding on the tree. "Father, the tree flourishes."

Aragorn looked to the tree and his gaze went west. "All now comes closer to fruition. Look soon for the last coming of the Elves, Faramir," Aragorn said with a contemplative smile.


	25. Gifts of the Eldar

It was only a matter of days then before watchers from Amon Dîn came racing to Minas Tirith to tell of a great host of fair folk coming toward the city. At the news Aragorn's smile seemed to glow and of a sudden there was a great flurry of activity. There now seemed so many loose ends needing yet to be tied before evening.

At the blending of night and day Aragorn stood with Faramir and all his friends at a high place in the city. He watched as Elladan and Elrohir rode as vanguard with Glorfindel and Erestor and the house of Elrond, all who he had known since his earliest memory. They were followed by the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien and many of their land. Lastly were the two he most longed to see again, Elrond and Arwen.

Citizens of Minas Tirith crowded together wherever there was a view of the north gate. The majority of them had never seen anything like this, a multitude of Elves riding to their city. Most had only ever heard of Elves in tales and thought it the height of wonder when they saw Elrohir, Elladan, and Legolas about. But this was an entire crowd of the mystical beings. There was rumor among some that their King was to wed the daughter of Master Elrond, but few who did not know Aragorn actually believed it.

Aragorn then went from the city and gave his most gracious and joyful greetings to all his guests. Elrond came before him with the scepter of Annúminas. He looked long and silently and dourly, as was his fashion in times such as these, at Aragorn. The Peredhil sighed and all grimness was washed away by an unmasked bittersweet smile.

"You have done well, my son." Elrond spoke barely above a whisper. He held forth the staff of the North Kingdom. "Take back Elendil's city and rebuild Arnor."

Aragorn embraced he who was the only father he had known, having suddenly realized again, after nearly 70 years, how very important a father's love was.

When at length Elrond stepped back from Aragorn he reached for Arwen's hand. There was the slightest hesitancy, barely noticeable even to Elven eyes, as Elrond placed his daughter's hand with Aragorn's. "My blessing," the Elf Lord said softly, glancing between them. Then his eyes again rested on Aragorn's. "You and i must speak together this night. I will wait for you."

Aragorn nodded and walked hand-in-hand with his beloved up to the Citadel where a private feast was laid for all of Minas Tirith's guests. With Arwen seated at his right and Faramir at his left and as many loyal friends and glad well-wishers as any could have, Aragorn now truly felt as a great King of Men.

That night, after the feast turned into much revelry, Aragorn noticed that Elrond was no longer in the crowd. He then slipped away as well and went to his chambers where he found Elrond waiting.

"I see you've found my Dorwinion stash," Aragorn charged light-heartedly.

Elrond shrugged, setting the glass down, "I suppose i am drawn to it, i sense its presence. You must indeed be greatly respected, King of Gondor, to have acquired even this much from the Elven King."

Aragorn laughed, having thought precisely the same when the stuff was brought to him. "I think i had the help of certain of my companions in that gift."

"It seems that you have put to right much that had been wrong. I see that you have even found the scion you searched for," Elrond said, changing the topic.

Aragorn hesitated, wondering if Elrond's metaphor was intentional. He considered who he was talking with and wondered how it could not be. "My lord, there is -"

Elrond waved a hand, cutting him off. "I am lord of nothing in these days. It is you who have at last claimed what i merely guarded. Estel, as i am sure you have guessed, i already know what you would tell me. Why you thought it would remain unknown to me, i do not know."

"At the time," Aragorn said almost distantly, "i simply did not think. For the past 36 years i have dealt with regret, self-scorn, shame, the desire not to know anything further of him, and yet the desire to return to him. Only now have i realized what i missed."

"No one in this realm is perfect, Estel. Though it would be wise of you to avoid telling that to your people. The future now means more than the past. What i am questioning is why you did not tell me of this. Did you fear i would refuse you or Faramir?"

"I feared it, and more. I feared your anger. I feared to fail you because you brought up me better than to make such poor judgments as i made that night and in the ensuing years."

"Then i fear that it is i who have failed you," Elrond said quietly. "You should never have been afraid to come to me. Did i fail to make it known to you that i love you as my son?"

"No, _adar_. You never once failed me in anything. I was simply blind to many things in those days. I was far too concerned with what i thought was responsibility. I thought by staying away from here i was doing what was best for Faramir. Yet now i see that, though i wish i would have given him the same chances you gave me, perhaps it was this way for a reason."

Elrond smiled slightly. "Everything happens as it does for a reason. It is well that you not only stayed away from Minas Tirith, but also Imladris. I was livid for years after learning."

"I think you were still fuming last October," Aragorn said plainly.

"In some ways i was, but i had also seen many things by then. I'm sure you know just how little is hidden from me."

Aragorn nodded, rather guiltily reflecting on his childhood. "How exactly did you know how often it was Elladan and Elrohir who put me up to those things?"

Elrond sighed deeply. "That, Estel, required absolutely no foresight on my part. I still wonder that i managed to raise them and did not come out looking like Gandalf." Elrond glanced around furtively, wondering if the elusive old wizard hadn't heard that remark. He then returned to the original subject. "You have made right with Faramir now. The future outshines the past. I am very proud of you for it, Estel-nín, for you have now proven yourself truly worthy of your crown, and of my gift to you."

Aragorn embraced Elrond as he had before the city gates. "_Hannon le, adar_," he said simply and sincerely.

"There is but one further responsibility you bear, ion-nín."

"You did not tell her?" Aragorn asked in surprise.

"No, it was not my place to do so, though i wanted to several times. Besides," Elrond said, his smile turning almost sadistically fey, "I would never deprive you of the... joy."

Aragorn laughed to match Elrond's sarcasm. "You would not be grinning like that if you had any doubts. You know that the decision of the Peredhil, once made, can not be retracted."

"No, i have no doubts. But that does not mean you do not." Elrond's grin widened. It was a disconcerting sight to Aragorn, but still better than his death-stare. "Go, then, and make your amends. And do so with haste, you have no idea just what every moment of time means to a young elleth. But i am confident that over the next few years you will learn well enough. I did."

---

On the way to the fairest rooms in Minas Tirith, those overlooking the healing garden, Aragorn told himself over and over that he had already been through this once before with Faramir. The second time around would have to be easier, he thought. And further, his thoughts becoming more resolute, he would neither deceive Arwen nor deny Faramir. The walk seemed to take longer than the march to the Black Gate.

When Aragorn approached her door he hesitated to knock, wondering how Elrond could have left him with this task. 'Very simply,' he told himself, 'he trusts you.' Naturally, Aragorn had not counted on the fact that he had no need to knock, Arwen had heard his approach and let him in.

Aragorn was suddenly speechless when he gazed into her eyes. He had to force himself to say something, anything, to stop just standing there like a fool. "Do you like it here?" he asked, immediately regretting such an idiotic opening. "Before you say anything, know that i have already promised Legolas that i would have more trees here." He thought it best not to bother to mention his promise to Gimli.

"Minas Tirith is a beautiful city, Aragorn. And she will grow all the more beautiful in your rule," Arwen said taking his hand in hers. Again he was at a loss for words. "_Im last a corm le," _she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Arwen...," Aragorn began. "Arwen, i must speak with you."

She raised her head and looked searchingly into his eyes. "It is concerning Faramir? He is the child who is yours?"

Aragorn felt his throat constrict and his eyes widen. "How did you know?" he asked softly in a kind of stunned fear.

Arwen's gentle smile calmed him. "My father is not the only one who can see that which is hidden, Estel."

"You have known all the time?"

She nodded.

"But then why did you come to me?"

Arwen touched her hand to the jewel Aragorn wore about his neck. "I have come to be your bride, to fulfill our years of waiting."

Aragorn sighed, her words only making him feel more guilty. "I know you must be angry with me...."

"No, Estel, i am not. I love you more than you know. Never have i seen anything in you that would make me feel otherwise. I know your heart."

"Arwen, i am more sorry than you know. To know that you would come willingly, knowning what you know...."

"Be not sorry to me, my love. Many things happened in the past that we may be sorry for. But the future has now arrived, and with it we are all given new opportunities. Come, accept my forgiveness and grant that i may see again your smile."

Aragorn accepted and granted his lady's wish with exuberance, feeling it must be too good to be true. He embraced her tightly and kissed her. His eyes shone with happiness as hers did with contentment. He held her hands in his and said, "Rest now, sweet Arwen. When i see you on the morrow we shall wed, at long last." He departed then and went to his sleep and when morning dawned it was the dawning of a new age of the world, and a joyful one for all.

---

_a few things:_

_Hannon le, adar = (we know this by now right?) Thank you, father_

_Im last a corm le = I hear your heart - Now that is a rough approximation. If anyone can refine that, please let me know._

_This would have all been up saturday night, but i had the strangest fever and ended up falling asleep at 5 in the afternoon after giving up writing to lay down for a minute. I passed out and the next thing i knew it was going on 8. I was back in bed by 9, after forcing myself to eat a few breadcrumbs so i could have some manner of strength in the morning. Sunday i finished this... but Doc Manager was offline. Yeah, right. _

_I think this is one of the best chapters so far. Reviews? _

_More to come. We are drawing near the end now._


	26. Everybody Here Wants You

Midsummer Day was a day of great rejoicing. All through the day, from sun up to sun down, there was much music, laughter, and food and drink. When night fell the heavens were filled with fiery stars of green, blue, red, yellow, purple, and orange, of all shapes and sizes, courtesy of Gandalf. If the four Hobbits thought Bilbo Baggins' eleventy-first (and Frodo's 33rd) birthday was the height of entertainment, they had never expected that the suspicious man they encountered in Bree could throw such a party as this was.

The entire city was the party grounds, though the Citadel hosted the honored guests, who were no small number either. Most of the guests preferred to remain outdoors in the courtyard, and there the wine flowed freer than the fountain by the White Tree. If one listened one could heard conversations being held in several languages.

The talk amongst the Elven guests mostly revolved around decisions to sail or to remain. A surprising number had chosen to stay in Middle-earth, not the least of which were Elladan, Elrohir, and their grandfather Celeborn. Faramir found himself mostly talking with his father's foster brothers and Legolas. Before long it was quite clear to the Steward that Legolas had been well instructed in the art of the practical joke, and that the Elf-price and the King of Gondor were so competitive because they had learned from the same teachers.

Faramir had wisely chosen to refrain that night from any drink that was not entirely Gondor-made. Yet still toward the end of the night Faramir found himself growing tired and a little too crowded for comfort. He found himself a quiet, unpopulated place to rest on a balcony overlooking the Anduin in the distance.

This night was the sort that Boromir had lived for. Faramir often wondered when or if his older brother ever rested. If he was not in battle, odds were good that he was busy being the life of a celebration. As Anduin sparkled with the reflected stars and distant lights burning all over the city, looking like the river flowed of adamant, Faramir found that for all the fulfillment he had found there was still nothing that could replace his adored brother. The small bit of ale he had, mostly to be sociable, allowed him to release the tears that crept into his eyes. He did not hear the Elf come near.

"Why do you weep, Faramir?" a soft voice asked, almost startling the young man. Faramir rose quickly and made to kneel before his queen, but Arwen's hand on his shoulder halted him. "Please, be seated with me."

Faramir accepted and was quiet for a moment before responding. "I weep for myself, my lady."

"Boromir's loss has been most difficult for you, and Aragorn can not be both father and brother to you. Nor shall i ever try to replace Finduilas in your life. I do hope, though, that we may all be glad of each other. You have brought Aragorn a true sense of pride, and he loves you most dearly, Faramir. And for that am i proud of him."

"To be in your attendance, my lady, is an honor to me. I am in your service, and i too hope that we all may have many a cheerful day here."

"The Valar may grant it, may we be as family to each other in every need," Arwen said with a smile. "You have friends hoping for your arrival in the hall this eve," she said, turning to go back to the party in the court, back to her husband. By that time Aragorn was beginning to need an extra arm to lean on.

It was a few minutes after Arwen departed that Faramir lifted his eyes from dancing stars in the river to the still ones above. He smiled sadly. "I wish you could have seen this, Bor'," he said before he went to join the five of his friends who were half his height.

The shorter folk considered it to be safer to celebrate indoors. Incidentally, most of the crowd who remained inside was mortal. Only a few Elves stayed in the hall, and they were those who already knew that the real entertainment was wherever the Hobbits were.

Among the Elves who were indoors at the time were, as was to be expected, Legolas and Elrond. By the time Faramir had reached the hall and heard strains of Hobbit drinking songs he had brightened up considerably. A cheer went up from his Rangers when he entered, "Steward Faramir! To your health and happiness!" bringing forth a bright smile from him.

Someone pressed a tankard his way but he refused it for the time being. When Elrond offered him a glass of wine, he refused that also, very respectfully.

"You are wise indeed, Faramir, to take not the wine of the Eldar," Elrond said with a knowing grin. "However, i can assure you that this wine is quite weak enough for you. I have a little more experience with mortals, as you may know."

Faramir was able to laugh at the memory, or lack thereof, of the night he drank Dorwinion wine, but it was probably only because it afforded him the next day's worth of sleep. He accepted then the wine from Elrond and found that it was indeed weak enough to allow him to remain lucid. Faramir did find, though, that the wine made conversation with Elrond easier than he would have imagined.

They were seated together toward the side of the room where conversation could be heard above the boisterous revelry. They talked of many things from Hobbits to Silmarils. They discussed sailing from the Havens and Faramir asked Elrond if he planned to make the journey soon.

"Soon? For more years than you can count has weariness been growing upon me. After the year my two eldest turned ten even the power of Vilya did little to stay off fatigue in Imladris. I was hard-pressed to remain faithful to my responsibilities here after my dear Celebrian sailed to the West, but there were a few things i needed to see here first. Such as my first grandson," Elrond said with a smile, embracing Faramir. "I am only sorry i now have such little time left here."

That night Faramir went to his sleep feeling more contented than he could remember being in all his years. For the first time in his life, he felt loved and accepted into a family that consisted of more than one other person. He knew that this was what Boromir had always wanted for his little brother, that he always tried so hard to provide for him.


	27. Lilac Wine

As the days filled with celebration died down and the work of running a kingdom got back to normal, Faramir and Aragorn enjoyed the city being filled with Elven life. For Aragorn, it was a symbol of both the past and the future of Middle-earth and his own life. Legolas's decision to bring Elves from the Woodland Realm to settle in the fine forests of Ithilien satisfied Aragorn perfectly. Having Elves nearby gave Aragorn a sense of peace, and he knew their being there would bring Ithilien the kind of healing it needed.

For Faramir, Aragorn having as guests many of those he grew up with and considered family meant only one thing: he would not be permitting the King to get on with any work. Rather Faramir had decided to take up the extra duties of his Stewardship as he would any other time Aragorn might be otherwise unavailable. He deemed it best to get better used to the procedures of the office at a time when he simply did not want to interrupt Aragorn, rather than a time when he might be unable to altogether.

In those weeks after the wedding father and son still continued their newly established tradition of taking their evening repast together. At times Gondor's Queen would join them, at others she left them to their talk of matters of state and their state of affairs, political and personal, while she accompanied her people.

This night they dined privately. It was a couple weeks after the wedding of Elessar and Arwen when riders from Rohan were seen returning to the White City. Word from the watch at Nardol had reached the king's ears and he came to supper that evening bearing the news to Faramir.

The Steward said that he was glad to hear of their return, but Aragorn read the troubled misgivings in his eyes too well. "You still fear to tell her? Or do you fear more that two months has taken its toll of her heart?"

Faramir looked into his father's steady grey eyes. There was a time when he would never have spoken his mind, let alone his heart, within the walls of the Citadel. "I fear, father, that she will react negatively if i tell her. Yet, i fear that if i tell her not i would naught but a charlatan."

"Why should you feel so, Faramir? In truth, it should not matter to her the circumstances of your birth." Aragorn decided to check just how much advice he gave his son at that point. Though he did believe that the reality of Faramir's birth should not matter to the woman he would marry, he would not go so far as to persuade his son to one action over another.

"I know what you are saying, father. The trouble is, i counseled you that there should be no secrets between husband and wife."

"You did, yes, however the matter was different. I was at fault, Faramir, and my actions were betrayal. You have done nothing wrong, though. Perhaps i should bear the responsibility of speaking to her as well?" Aragorn suggested, already knowing Faramir's answer.

"No, father, this i must do alone, without aid. If she rejects that knowledge, then that is how it is meant to be," Faramir said with more steadfastness than he knew he had.

Over the next couple of days until the host of Rohan reached the city Faramir fairly buried himself in his work. Several citizens had nearly started a rumor that he left the city or was in very grave health, the people of Minas Tirith having a special liking for scandal about authority figures. When the call came that King Éomer had arrived, though, Faramir went with Aragorn to give his greetings.

Éowyn, of course, went quickly to Faramir. She took his hand and smiled warmly, her eyes sparkling. Gazing back into her eyes, he still saw a certain amount of grief within her. The latest guests entered the city, which was now becoming very full, despite many people returning to their outlying homes that had been abandoned in the days of the shadow. Faramir escorted Éowyn to the garden where the air was more conducive to talk.

"My lady, you are radiant indeed," Faramir said, being seated with her under a lilac tree. "And yet, i still sense sadness and concern in you."

Éowyn looked away from him briefly. "We come not on happy occasion, but to return my uncle to the land of his forefathers."

"We have had much happy occasion here in Minas Tirith, i am only sorry that you were not with us. Such celebration may have lightened the burdens you bear as it has for many of us."

"I have heard that the wedding of your king to his Elven queen was indeed magnificent. I wish that our own will be as wonderful," she said with a hopeful smile.

Faramir laughed at the thought of trying to execute that scale of ceremony all over again. "Ours shall be beautiful indeed, perhaps more beautiful than Aragorn's wedding, if not quite as grand. After all, we have plenty of time for planning. Though they were betrothed for 39 years, Aragorn only began planning when he found the new tree."

Éowyn looked a little taken aback to think of that long a betrothal. "They had waiting 39 years for their wedding?" she asked.

"And longer, in truth it was more like 68 years, for that was when they met," Faramir said, recounting some of his father's stories to him.

"But surely we shall not wait that long?" Éowyn asked, sounding worried.

"Of course we shall not," Faramir said with a smile. "Not nearly."

"How long shall we wait, then? I had hoped that we might be wed by harvest."

"Harvest?" Faramir asked, raising a brow. "You mean next year's harvest, of course."

Éowyn shook her head, her eyes conveying much care. "I mean this harvest, Faramir."

Faramir could not help but laugh at the implausibility of him getting married before winter's first frost. "Éowyn, my dear, it could not possibly be so soon."

"Why not? What prevents it?" she challenged.

"Well, for one thing i have not even begun to look toward Emyn Arnen where we shall dwell in time."

"Yet you may do so easily enough. Surely there are many who you may send forth on your behalf."

"Of course there are, but it takes time to settle enough to be able to live there and make comfort for a wife."

"Can we not live here in the city until then?"

"We could, yes, but that is really beside the point i believe." Faramir began to wonder where all this was going, why Éowyn was so insistent that their marriage take place quickly, and further why he had not even been able to discuss with her what he intended to.

"Then tell me what else holds you back, if not the land of the Prince of Ithilien," she said, growing in her firmness.

"Éowyn, there is much work for me to accomplish here, for the future of the kingdom, before i can even begin to think of my own future. I can not simply leave my work to gather, there are none else who can perform the duties of my office."

"Then you mean to say that your title is more important to you than i am?" she asked rather distressed now.

"Why would you think that? Éowyn, i am simply saying that my responsibilities to my king and country are very great. It is as i said, there is no one else who can see to some issues. Not the least of which includes the many numbers of women and children left without husbands and fathers because of the war. Surely you understand. They can not be expected to fare for themselves, some have no family, no one to take them in. One of my responsibilities as Steward is to see to it that everyone within the city is taken proper care of, and that involves spending a lot of time assessing their needs. Not only that, but there is the rebuilding going on here in the city and out at Osgiliath. Rath Dinen was severely -"

Éowyn's passionate protest cut him off. "What of the responsibility you bear to that which i now bear?!" she practically shouted.

Faramir was so stunned that she brought such a sudden halt to his own words that it took him a moment to process what exactly she meant. His eyes widened slightly and his jaw dropped as realization struck the Steward. All of sudden he had to catch his breath.

"You mean... you're with... but are you certain? I mean... but, Éowyn, you can't -" Faramir spoke haltingly before he felt the old urge to hide every feeling and become again the imperturbable young man who so often faced difficult challenges by refusing to get emotionally involved.

"I can and i am, Faramir," she said quietly.

Faramir's forehead fell toward his hand. "I am not ready for this in my life," he muttered. That was when he began internally berating himself as he had done what seemed so long ago. "Éowyn, i am sorry, but i can not discuss this with you. I need a moment. Meet me here again this evening, please, and i will be more ready for this." Faramir spoke hastily before hurrying away from the garden and to the Citadel toward Aragorn's study. He needed his father's advice immediately.

When Faramir reached the study, Aragorn's door was shut. Most times Faramir would have simply put off his interruption for a more convenient moment, but not in this case. Aragorn answered Faramir's knock and the Steward did not even bother to acknowledge Éomer, who his father had been chatting with. Aragorn observed immediately his son's paled countenance and was worried.

"I need to talk to you, now," was all Faramir said, though he hadn't needed to say even that much. Aragorn was already going to ask Éomer to see him later when he saw the pain in Faramir's eyes.

Aragorn closed the door as Éomer headed out and he turned to Faramir, trying to gauge what could possibly have troubled him to the point that he was visibly shaking. "Faramir, my son, what's wrong? What happened?" Aragorn asked concerned, placing a steadying hand on Faramir's shoulder.

As Faramir looked at his father his tears broke loose. Aragorn stood bewildered for a moment before putting his arms around his son. Aragorn was now beginning to fear what news Faramir was bringing him.

"I need your help, father. Tell me what to do, and i shall, for i no longer even know where to find the sunrise," Faramir said, calming down a little.

"What's happened, Faramir?" Aragorn asked evenly.

"Éowyn is with child," his son replied steadily but despondently.

Aragorn felt a sudden rush back to the day that herald had finally found him in the wild some 36 years ago. He was flooded with compassion for his own child. Aragorn let out a long sigh which Faramir mistook for anger and backed off a bit, standing a little straighter and forcing himself to quell his tears. He had momentarily forgotten that he was not in Denethor's presence.

"Faramir..." Aragorn said calmingly. "It's alright, i understand what you are feeling."

Faramir sank down into a nearby chair and attempted to bury his head in his hands. "What have i done, father? I am not ready for this. I can not be a husband and father. I am so angry at myself for this. All the way here there was a voice in the back of my mind telling me what a foolish mistake i've made."

"First of all, do not be angry with yourself, Faramir, nor anyone else. Also, do not listen to that voice. Likely as not that is the voice of the past," the king counseled his son gently. He had figured that Faramir's conscience probably sounded a lot like Denethor.

"What am i to do? Father, i am not ready to be married. There are far too many other -" Faramir stopped short at his father's grin.

"Other ladies?" he said jokingly, knowing full-well that Faramir did not have the roaming eye his brother was purported to have, but also knowing he needed to lighten the mood, if but a little.

"Father."

"Sorry, Faramir. I know, you have many responsibilities. And i know, furthermore, that you immensely enjoy your work. Do not think for a moment that i could carry on without you at my right hand. Faramir, do not lose heart of this, you never know what may come of it. When i returned here for your birth i thought only to ease Finduilas's pain and be gone again. I had no intention of even looking at you. But once i did i was trapped, and you know that you are the best thing in my life," Aragorn said holding his son's hand. "Come, we shall get through it together."

Faramir felt immensely comforted, it was almost as though Aragorn had a dish of athelas water on hand. As it happened, the king had sneaked a leaf from his belt pouch and was crushing it between his fingers.

"There is only one trouble, father."

Aragorn nodded that he was listening.

"I hardly know her, really, and i have been wondering in these weeks since your wedding if i really love her... or if what i had felt in the healing garden was not just my pity for her combined with my own need to feel loved."

Aragorn was amazed by the understanding of his own emotions that Faramir displayed. He also wondered at the sameness of their situations, and he felt terrible that his situation all those years ago allowed him an escape whereas it did not for Faramir. At the moment, though, he knew well enough that all Faramir needed was his father's arm around him. And that athelas leaf that was nearly rubbed into oblivion.


	28. Will the Circle be Unbroken

For hours the two men sat together, mostly in quiet. Aragorn kept his door closed and he alerted a guard that he was not to be disturbed until further notice. The sun began to fill the south-western balcony and to spill through the window. After some time Faramir rose and made to leave.

"Where are you going, Faramir?" his father asked.

"I asked Éowyn to meet me in the garden again after i had time to think," he replied unenthusiastically. "I'm sure Lord Éomer wants to finish his conversation...." Faramir trailed off as a horrible thought came to mind.

He knew very little of Éomer's character, but he could recall some of the things Gimli had said about the Horselord. Terms like, "prideful," "rather rude if i say so," and "disturbingly almost bloodthirsty" were among the notable phrases the dwarf had for the King of Rohan regarding their first meeting.

"Father... about Éomer...." Faramir said, fear in his eyes.

"He'll have me to come through first, Faramir," his father replied with a reassuring smile. Aragorn had grown to anticipate his son as much as Faramir had him. "Actually, Faramir, do you think it a good idea to speak with Éowyn just now?"

Faramir searched his father's soft grey eyes and merely shrugged halfheartedly. "Tell me what to do, father."

Aragorn shook his head though. "I can not, Faramir. I can advise you, but i can not instruct you in this matter. Give it the night perhaps. I think calmer heads will prevail in the morning. I will go tell her you will talk in the morning. Stay here and when i come back we will talk over a drink. What say you?"

Faramir nodded and dropped back into comfortable chair where he'd been.

Aragorn went out and asked a servant standing by to have dinner for two sent to the study along with some cold ale. By the time he reached the Houses of Healing the sun was blazing in the west, dipping behind the mountains. When Aragorn entered the garden Éowyn was already there, but she made no move to turn and face the new comer.

"Éowyn," Aragorn called gently, causing her to spin with surprise that it was he and not Faramir.

"My lord Aragorn...." She stood staring at him for a moment before coming to her senses enough to kneel. She rose again feeling his hand on her shoulder. "Where is your Steward, Faramir? He was to meet me."

"I know, Éowyn. That is why i have come, to tell you that he is unable to see you tonight. Faramir is... going to be busy, maybe until rather late -" This time it was Aragorn surprised by her interruptive outburst.

"Then Faramir forsakes me just as you did! Is this how men of Gondor always treat women?" she accused indignantly.

Aragorn stood tall at her allegation, gravity in his very complexion to the point that one could tell he had spent years in the house of Master Elrond. As far as he was concerned, she had gone too far in her accusation of his son and himself. "Éowyn," he said, forcing himself to remain calm, "Faramir has done nothing of the sort. He knows his responsibilities and he has never failed in them. I have need of Faramir's attendance with me tonight. I am sorry, but he will be able to meet with you in the morning. As for your charge that i forsook you, my path lead me by a different way, a way crucial to our victory. Furthermore, you were never mine to leave. If you see your brother, let him know that we may continue our talk come morning. Thank you." Aragorn left the garden quickly and returned to his study to find their suppers and ale, mercifully, ready.

Faramir read plainly the exasperation that Aragorn was feeling. "I take it she was not happy to see you?" he said, sipping at his drink.

"Faramir, you'll pardon me, but that woman has got to be the most insufferable person i have ever met," Aragorn said, feeling the need to vent. "She accused you of forsaking her when i tried to explain that you would be busy this evening because i needed you here. It took all my patience to tell her that you have not forsaken anyone and that you would see her tomorrow. For all the stars in the skies! She accused me of abandoning her when i took the Dimholt road to Erech. She was completely oblivious to the fact that i had to take the Paths of the Dead. Not that that came as a surprise. All the while we were in Rohan she was under the delusion that i loved her and we were meant to be. It mattered not to her, i suppose, that i wore Arwen's jewel at all times. She was utterly taken aback when i told her once and for all that i did not love her."

When Aragorn had said his piece and got it off his chest Faramir's expression was one of neutral disbelief.

Aragorn had to laugh at his own rant. "I'm sorry, Faramir. I never do that," he said shaking his head at himself. "That was just so aggravating."

Faramir nodded. "It's alright, i think i understand. Let's not talk of this situation now. Tolfalas has been pressing for more patrols, but Dol Amroth has scarcely been able to replenish their numbers. Do you think we can afford to pull troops from Lebinnen?" Faramir asked, thoroughly changing the subject.

From there on their topics avoided anything to do with marriage, women, or children. As the hours burned by the two poured over maps and made decisions about territories. They shared jokes about some of the particularly unkempt envoys who had been turning up from lands neither of them had ever heard of to ask favors of the king.

By the time Faramir had, without realizing it, fallen sound asleep on the chaise he had forgotten his woes. Aragorn looked upon the dreaming young man with complete understanding and did not wake him. It would be a rough day for him tomorrow. Aragorn left Faramir to his sleep there in the study. He told the guard on duty to see to it that none created a disturbance near the room.

---

In the morning Faramir wake with a start to the sound of an argument outside the study. He was still sleepy and was comfortable as he was so he decided to ignore it and try to just get back to sleep. The noise increased from without though and Faramir grasped the fact that there was no more rest to be had. Faramir heard a man stating firmly that "the King ordered no disturbance here!" and he decided to end the poor guard's trouble.

Opening the study door only let the full blast of the row in. There stood Éowyn demanding to see the King of Gondor and the Tower guard insisting that the King was not available yet. She turned when the door opened as to prove the guard's excuse a lie, thinking that it was Aragorn himself. She looked very astonished to see Faramir in Aragorn's study.

"What's going on here, Rathling?" Faramir wearily asked the guard.

"This lady demands to see the King, sir. I told her repeatedly that i was given orders to keep this area quiet."

Faramir nodded. "Aye, that's because i must have fallen asleep last night. Thank you, Rathling, i will carry on from here."

The guard nodded and bowed to him before shooting a disapproving frown at Éowyn and leaving. Faramir could hear him mutter something about the mannerisms of women from Rohan. She did not seem to care.

"Éowyn, please come in and be comfortable. I don't know when my -" he checked himself just before letting slip the word 'father.' "I don't know when Aragorn will see you. I suppose we should talk now as later though."

"I will not need to see the King if we talk now," she said, her tone almost cold. "I was coming to plead his mercy. I wanted to ask him to pardon you from your duties here so that we might begin a family."

Faramir wondered if he had heard correctly what she meant to ask of his father. He wondered if he wasn't still asleep and just having a strange dream like the one he had after being stricken on Pelennor. The very thought of Aragorn giving him leave from his office terrified him. He did not feel like mincing words or playing games at this point and decided to simply be forthright about the matter. "Éowyn, you may or may not believe what i must tell you, but i shall not hide it from you. After you and Éomer left for Edoras i learned that Denethor was indeed not my father. Aragorn told me that the dream i told you i had in the Black Breath was true, and that he was that ranger who served Ecthelion."

"You are the son of Aragorn?" she asked unbelieving.

"Yes," Faramir said.

"Son of the King? Then you are the Prince of Gondor and Aragorn's heir, and my child is your heir, heir to the crown of Gondor and -" This time it was Faramir's turn to interrupt.

"No, Éowyn. Absolutely not. I am not a prince. I am simply the Steward. I have decided that the people of the kingdom shall not know the reality of my birth. I want nothing to do with the crown or any such inheritance."

"But Faramir," she protested, "my child may be the King or Queen of Gondor one day."

"Put the idea out of your mind. It is not going to happen. When Aragorn and Arwen have a child, he or she shall be the heir. Not i, and not my child. I will not have my child growing up with that belief," Faramir said firmly.

"Why?" she challenged defiantly. "Is this baby's blood not good enough because it is mixed with the blood of Rohan instead of Elven blood?"

Faramir felt a headache beginning and had a feeling it was only going to get worse. Fortunately it was just then that Aragorn entered looking disheveled and little annoyed. The guard, Rathling, had gone immediately to his chambers when Faramir dismissed him to report the incident.

"My greetings to you, lady Éowyn," Aragorn said with a bow. He was nothing if not at least courteous. All gallantry aside, he beheld his son looking about as tousled as he knew he was. "I am sorry, Faramir. I meant to keep this area quiet so that you could get some rest before i leave today with Theoden's escort."

Faramir just shook his head. "I've done without before."

"I know, you are not the only one. Be that as it may, you and i need to talk over a few things. I expect to be gone for probably two months, my companions with me, so the kingdom is all yours until i return."

Faramir nodded, unable to keep a slight smile from his lips. He would greatly enjoy this new challenge.

Aragorn turned, surprised that Éowyn had not taken his hint that he and Faramir needed to talk confidentially. "You may go, my lady," he said, keeping his voice even. Éowyn stared hard at him before turning abruptly and leaving, very indignant at having been dismissed as if she was a maid or not to be trusted with the secrecy of their talk.

Faramir shook his head in disgust, sleep still calling out to him like a siren. "You know that because of what you just said you will have to deal with her scorn while you are among them for the next two months."

Aragorn nodded. "I have dealt with worse, i assure you."

"Is it because she is with child that she acts like that? I have heard that some women go mad for their entire pregnancy," Faramir said a bit worried.

"No, Faramir, it is because she is from Rohan. And women tend to go a bit mad frequently, expecting or not."

Faramir then turned to the more serious issue on his mind. "Father, is it wrong for a man to marry for honor alone?"

"That is something that each man must decide for himself, my son. If you are asking me what i think, i believe no one should ever marry except that they have already waited half their lives and are sure that they will be able to stand the other's presence for the other half. But i see in your eyes that you would not make the mistake i made."

"If I could but raise the child here on my own I would have far fewer worries," Faramir said dejectedly, but not without a measure of hope.

"We have so much in common, you and I," Aragorn said. "I have no doubt that you would be an excellent father, but the fact is that though a child will survive without a father, it fares little chance without a mother. Neither would the people accept that arrangement any too well."

"Then I have no choice," Faramir said with a sigh. "Do I have your leave while you are away to send men to Emyn Arnen to put into place what work shall be needed for my dwelling there?"

"Absolutely not," Aragorn replied directly. "Those may be the lands of your title but I see no reason you should be banished there immediately. I still need you here in the Citadel with me. However, perhaps you want to have a dwelling there for your lady? Perhaps a house here in the city? That could be arranged. Fear not, you are not without my support."

Faramir embraced his father. "Hannon le," he said genuinely.

Aragorn smiled sadly. "I will miss you greatly while I am away. You will keep yourself well?"

"I will be fine. I am sure I will get plenty of work done, enough that you may rest upon your return," Faramir said confidently.

"Good. Have fun running my kingdom. As I said… this is all yours," Aragorn said with a touch of dryness.

Faramir noted with a smile the note of sarcasm in his father's voice.

"Come, see us off, there are some who will wish to bid you farewell," Aragorn said referring to the four Hobbits.

The two continued their talk as they walked out from the Citadel.

"That will indeed be a sad parting," Faramir said. "This city will seem deserted without them around; I've grown so used to their company."

"And they to ours I am sure," Aragorn agreed.

"I know they miss the Shire though. I must make it a point to visit them there one day."

"So should i." Aragorn's voice lowered to nearly a whisper. "Faramir, don't worry about Éowyn. This will work out for the best. Trust me."

Faramir nodded, his eyes smiling. "There is no one I trust more, father."


	29. Fare Thee Well

Exiting the Citadel gates into the city, father and son were greeted by a crowd gathered for the riding forth. Most who were riding were already mounted and waiting. As Éomer and Aragorn stepped aside to settle a few details about the riding order, Pippin approached Faramir looking a little dejected. Faramir thought that the saddest sight in Middle-earth was that of an unhappy Hobbit.

"And what troubles you, Master Pippin?" Faramir asked.

"You don't look like you are riding with us, are you?"

"No, i'm not, Pip. In some ways i wish i could. I shall miss you all very dearly. You do not know what joy you four have brought to Minas Tirith," he said to Pip and the other three in the background. Faramir knelt to them in a display of profound respect.

Frodo stepped forward and hugged Faramir. "Thank you for the help you gave us. What you did was brave and worthy," the Hobbit said very simply.

Faramir shook his head. "Those are words that belong to you, Master Frodo. If not for you and Sam...." He trailed off not needing to finish. Everyone knew too well what would have befallen.

"Mr. Faramir," Sam said, causing the Steward to grin at his new title, "Mr. Frodo and i have decided that a book should be written, all concerning our tale and all. I shall remember everything you told me about that night you wasn't feeling well, and, with your leave of course, i would like that to be part of the story."

Faramir smiled. "You have my leave, Sam. just as long as i have yours to record all that you have told me about the Shire. I shall also want your leave to visit one day."

Sam nodded. "You'd be very welcome, Mr. Faramir."

Faramir thanked Sam but noticed that Merry hadn't said anything. There was little that needed to be said between them, they had kept each other company while convalescing and had come to be good friends. "You all have my promise that i shall visit the Shire one day, as my lord permits," he said with a wink toward Aragorn, who nodded.

"Who is riding for the Prince of Ithilien, Faramir?" Pippin asked.

"Beregond shall go in my stead." Faramir gestured to the new Captain of the Guard of Faramir. "I trust him with my life," he said with a slightly ironic smile. Faramir rose then as Glorfindel and Erestor of the House of Elrond came forth from the Citadel gates.

The Elf Lord beheld his two advisors critically. "You do we are riding... now."

"We know, _mellon_," Glorfindel said in his unconcerned manner. "However, we have decided to stay here a while longer."

"After all," Erestor said dryly, "Elladan and Elrohir will be along to help you in whatever advice you may need."

Faramir was greatly pleased that they had decided to stay on. The city would feel much less lonely to him thus. As Gandalf lead Shadowfax forward Faramir found himself wishing that his old friend would remain as well. His heart told him that their meetings would be only a few after this departure.

As he and Wizard embraced Gandalf muttered in his way, "We shall meet again, Faramir," as if to answer the Steward's unspoken question.

Legolas also reiterated Gandalf's words. "Gimli and i have a bit of traveling to be done, but i believe we shall both be returning to Minas Tirith before very long... in my accounting at least." The dwarf merely nodded and grumbled something inaudible as he struggled to get onto Arod's back, the horse none too happy about the arrangement either. It was a lucky thing for Gimli that Legolas had spoken to Arod that morning.

Faramir laughed, "So you mean that i shall not see you again until i am on my deathbed?"

Legolas grinned. "Perhaps we shall keep our travel quick-paced, then," he said, drawing a grunt from Gimli who was still none too steadily boarded.

Aragorn lent a hand to the dwarf before clapping Faramir's shoulder. "I will see you in a couple of months. If you find yourself not knowing what i would do, just don't ask either of those Elves," he said indicating Glorfindel and Erestor.

Faramir smiled and nodded. "Farewell, take care of yourself."

"Only if you do," Aragorn said hugging his son.

"I will, father," Faramir whispered before stepping back and allowing Aragorn to jump up into the waiting saddle.

When Éowyn brought her horse to its place in the riding formation she did not look at Faramir, causing the desired uncomfortable effect.

"Farewell, Éowyn," Faramir said gently.

She considered not responding, but turned and curtly bid him farewell also.

"I am sorry," he said, even more softly. "When you get back -" he began to at least try to soothe her but it was plain that she was no longer listening. Apparently, he was not the only one who had learned something of the art of composure and the rebuff.

Aragorn came to Faramir and spoke quietly. "Remember what i told you, Faramir. This will work out. Just trust me. Think not on this too much, and allow Glorfindel and Erestor to distract you once in a while. Well, Glorfindel at any rate. Erestor isn't a great supporter of distractions. I will see you before long," Aragorn slipped the Ring of Barahir from his finger and handed it to Faramir. "This is yours now," was all he said before riding with Éomer to the fore of the van and beginning the slow march from the city.

Faramir stood at the courtyard wall and saw the host off as far as his sight allowed him before turning and heading toward his study to relax and think for a while.

---

_Now, to those who found themselves a little surprised with some of the emotions in the last chapter, bear with me here. Remember that not only has Éowyn had more time than Faramir to come to terms with this reality, but that Faramir has already had his entire life, his entire world turned around in the last few months. He is feeling as though the weight of the world that was lifted from him when he found his real father has just been dropped on him again by... fatherhood. This is a rare look at what a man might go through in his situation (we so often see it from the woman's POV.)_

_Question for liz: You said you wanted more exploration/explanation of headspace... who's exactly? Mostly Faramir and Éowyn? I am working on the next chapter already (of course) and i do get into their thoughts and feelings a little more, but i would like to know what you think needs the most reinforcement._

_**Thanks to you and to all reviewers! Reviews make my day!**_


	30. If You See Her

The riding formation was set up so that the only three ladies were protected by the vanguard, Celeborn and Elrond keeping flanks by wife and daughter respectively with Éowyn at center. The journey to Edoras would last them three weeks, their pace being somber and the road being frequently lined with mourners, especially one they crossed into Rohan.

After the first week's riding Éowyn's endurance began to fail. She had started out being held upright mostly by angry pride, then anger faded to simple pride. By their tenth night out pride too had failed her and she wept the night, cold, alone, and afraid in her tent.

These events had not gone unmarked by her two female riding companions. On the 13th night when they made camp for the night near the beacon at Halifirien before the Firien Wood, Galadhriel went to Éowyn. At first Éowyn was very reticent and would say nothing to the White Lady of Lorien, who she had only heard tales about and rather feared. Galadhriel shared with her a few bits of lembas before she was able to catch and hold Éowyn's eye contact and to speak to her wordlessly. What she found in Éowyn's thoughts only confirmed her suspicions.

As Éowyn realized that this Elven Lady knew her the full extent of awful secret she wept. Galadhriel put arms around her and comforted the mortal child. "Weep not, Éowyn," she said calmingly, her voice like the songs of woodland birds. "You bear a daughter who shall be as gentle and beautiful as a misty spring sunrise."

Still Éowyn's tears remained. "Faramir refuses me, though i thought surely he would understand when no other did. He was so gentle. And now i can no longer remain at Edoras or my brother will know. I know i should tell them what happened, but i can not, Lady. I can not say it!"

Then did Arwen also enter, having heard Éowyn's lamentation. She took Éowyn's hand in hers sympathetically. "Faramir does not refuse you. In truth he cares for you, but remember that he is only a man and these things terrify them more than any shadow of Mordor ever had power to."

Galadhriel smiled at her granddaughter's grasp of the truth of the matter. "Such is true for the males of all races. When i was pregnant with your mother i felt sure that Celeborn was going to run away and live up a tree in Mirkwood for the rest of his days. Éowyn, by the time you return to Minas Tirith to him he will have made the right decision. I have seen this."

Éowyn shook her head doubtfully. "I had not planned to return to Minas Tirith, nor to stay in Edoras."

"What would you do?" Arwen asked gently.

"I had thought i could make my own dwelling somewhere. Perhaps in the realm of Dale. I care not as long as it is far from men of Gondor," she said. "There none shall know me and may believe that my husband died in the war."

The Elven women disagreed that this would be the wisest course though. "If you should do that, lady Éowyn, my husband's son will never forgive himself, and that will bring Aragorn much anguish. That is one thing i can not bear," Arwen said. "Please, as a favor to the Queen of Gondor, give Faramir another chance. Do you not know from where his withdrawal stems?" Arwen went on to explain to Éowyn the years of hatred and utter rejection that Faramir had suffered.

As Galadhriel and Arwen rose to leave Éowyn to her much needed rest, Arwen again took her hand and looked into her eyes. "Tell your brother what happened to you. It will take more pride to go to him for help than to keep your secret. Do not tell him of Faramir just yet, though, for he is a impulsive man in these matters, as you know. Fear not to tell Faramir. Aragorn's son has a gift of the Valar, Éowyn. He may have seen it in a vision by the time of your return. He will support you."

---

A very short chapter, yes. The she-elves know something that we do not yet. There is another depth to Eowyn's secret, something causing her a lot more grief than just being pregnant. Faramir will find out about this next chapter (31 is likely to be pretty short too, actually.) Anyway, i hope this helps to put out a few fires i might have started :)


	31. Calling You

Faramir's first night in the Citadel alone but for the guards and two Elves from Imladris was a sleepless one. He desperately wanted a peaceful, restful sleep but every time he tried to close his eyes and let troubles be he remembered the anxiety he saw in Éowyn's eyes. He delivered himself a storm of condemnation, asking himself why he did nothing to allay her fears. Every time the only answer he could come up with was 'i also was afraid.'

The words of Denethor he had heard in his dream so many weeks ago resounded loudly. "Afraid! That is just it. Faramir is a weakling...." For the first time in his life, Faramir truly believed Denethor's belittling because he no longer had a brother to tell him differently. His father was not around, nor even his loyal soldiers.

He knew, of course, their reasons for absence at this time. Death, whether it gathered his loved ones personally or called them away to bury the dead, separated him from comfort. But now that Denethor's harsh words rang true, Faramir wept and felt as though his friends and family had deserted him because of his failings.

For all his study and for all he might have been able to recognize it in others, this time Faramir was unable to recognize the fell and dark dividing influence that ever haunted the race of mortal Men. Though Morgoth was eternally cast away into the Void, the seedlings of his evil were sown too deep to be rid of until the End of Days. And though it had only taken the power of Sauron to manipulate Denethor and Boromir and to, in the end, bring their downfall, it took much more to find weakness in Faramir.

When day dawned in Minas Tirith it brought great relief for Faramir. Finally he was able to stop pretending to try to rest. Now he could just go bury himself in his study and work on setting the kingdom in order. There was just one thing the Steward needed first: a short swim in the Anduin, not only to wake him but because when he had a brother a morning swim in the summer was a ritual with them.

Heading out of the city before too many people were awake to bother him, Faramir dove into the river, letting the cold water of morning shock him to wakefulness. After a few good laps he felt good again and came ashore, throwing himself down in the sunlight, pulling his cloak over him when a breeze came by. For a while he just lay and took in the warmth of the rising sun in contrast to the cool breeze and the cold river. He closed his eyes, listened to the bird life and before long he was no longer concentrating on any one thing. This morning so hearkened back to Boromir and Faramir's childhood.

Before Faramir realized, he was asleep on the river bank. He dreamed of one morning years ago when the brothers had gone for a swim after an early morning round of fencing. Faramir had thoroughly trounced his brother, but Boromir insisted it was because he was still tired. Faramir didn't care any for excuses, it was the first time he had ever bested his brother. Afterward they went down to the river and Boromir pulled Faramir in still half dressed. After a highly immature water fight they climbed back up to the banks and lay in the bright, warm sun.

"Fara'," Boromir said, "you gave me an excellent fight this morning, even if i was tired."

Faramir had no difficulty seeing through Boromir's pride-saving excuse and genuinely accepted the compliment for what it really was.

"I want to tell father of your improvement." Boromir already anticipated his brother's reaction though.

Faramir shook his head. "Don't Bor', just don't mention me at all to him, alright?"

Boromir reached out for his brother's hand. "If you really don't want to me, i won't. I just wish he would see you as i do. I can't understand why he treats you as he does. Just remember that you'll always be my little brother, Faramir."

"Thanks, Bor'. I guess i just have to try harder not to fail him."

Boromir laughed unexpectedly. "Little brother, if you try any harder you are liable to do some serious damage, to yourself or to someone else, like me," he said indicating the scratch to his right wrist he had just received.

"I wouldn't have done that much if you had worn your bracers," Faramir chided him.

Boromir chuckled. "I know, but i needed more wrist mobility to even up the fight a little. You really are excellent, Faramir. I'm glad you are on our side. And you should never listen to father's criticisms. This is a secret that i heard from Beregond's uncle, so forget it as soon as i tell you, but he said there used to be a ranger in Minas Tirith who was always better than father at everything. Even grandfather was close to him and trusted him with things that he didn't trust with father. Father was very jealous and you probably just remind him of that ranger. After all, you are the best man in Minas Tirith... every time i am away."

Faramir smirked. Boromir always had to conceal his admiration of his little brother with something self-flattering. "Thank you, Boromir. I appreciate that someone cares how i feel and approves of me."

Boromir looked at his little brother concernedly. "You know, i won't always be around to keep your spirits up, Fara'. Promise me you won't let self-doubt get to you. I admire you, Faramir, a lot. I know you will always make the right choices, the choices i would have hid from or given in to the easiest way for me."

"I promise, Boromir," Faramir assured him, not very certain himself though. "I'm glad you admire me, i think you know that i have always had a very high opinion of you too." Faramir turned his glance from his brother upward to the sky and watched the clouds wander along the breeze for a while. "I wonder whither our paths shall lead us," he murmured.

Boromir groaned. "That's always the kind of question you ask, things that have no answers. I swear you actually love thinking about things like that."

Faramir grinned. "I do, Bor'. It's the next best thing to reading."

"Well, i do not know where our paths will lead us, but i do know that we will always be brothers," Boromir said gripping Faramir's hand.

Faramir smiled brightly. "Always brothers," he confirmed, as they rested there on the bank of the Anduin, watching the clouds go by.

Faramir woke suddenly from his dream at Rathling's call. When the guard had found his Steward laying alone by the riverbank he feared to even come near Faramir, lest he come to a horrible realization. Faramir looked fine and healthy though, his breathing even and tranquil, and Rathling calmed down kneeling beside him and calling him to wake.

Faramir looked around him, wondering briefly where they were. "Rathling... i fell asleep?"

The guard nodded. "My lord, i am not surprised. You did not get the sleep you needed yesterday."

"I did not get the sleep i needed last night. I did not sleep," Faramir said, wishing he could just fall asleep again. Then he remembered the desk and tables in his study, covered with all manner of papers. He shook his head at Rathling's request that Faramir head back to his chamber and rest. He did accept, however, the use of the steed the guard had rode to the river on.


	32. If You Knew

Once back in the Citadel, Faramir near dragged himself to his desk. Fortunately, the room was very comfortable and Faramir enjoyed being there almost as much as he did being outdoors. He curled up on the floor in the quietest corner of the room near a window, an old habit he'd developed as a child, and began to read over the many various correspondences around him.

When a concerned maid brought him a noon meal he took his lunch at his desk, still reading missives from every land he'd ever heard of, save those of Beleriand, but he began to wonder if he wouldn't see a letter from Doriath in all this mess, sundered Westernesse didn't seem unlikely either. After lunch Faramir found his head propped up on his arm and fought off the pressing sleep that threatened him. Sleep eventually took the young Steward without his consent. Late that afternoon Glorfindel and Erestor found him sound asleep on a mound of parchment.

Erestor shook his head compassionately but Glorfindel took it for disapproval. "Do not dare to criticize him. He is but a boy," the fair-haired Glorfindel advised his raven-haired friend strongly.

"That was not criticism, _mellon_, i feel sorry for him. Can you imagine how confused he must be? You recall how often Boromir spoke of him when he was in Imladris. They must have been the best of friends, but now Faramir has lost that friend. He thought he lost his father, without ever once having pleased him. But then he finds that he has a father who is overjoyed to just know him. And now he is heading suddenly into paternity, and as you say, he is but a boy as we account it."

"Maybe we should take some of these letters? Do you think Estel would mind us helping him?" Glorfindel asked.

Erestor eyed him as if to say 'you are thoroughly impossible.' "I do not know what you decided to stay in this stone city for when you could have been heading back to Imladris. I, however, stayed to help this boy. If Elrond needed our assistance running our small valley realm, think what poor Faramir will need. There may be actual work for us to accomplish here."

Glorfindel was stopped short, but he was hardly surprised. "You are always thinking of work and what must be done next, are you not? I decided to stay because Minas Tirith is so like to Gondolin... but you would not remember that."

Erestor nodded very seriously. "Look, just because _you_ have never exactly been an Elf of many letters.... Glor', how, pray tell, did you think all that work used to get done? It wasn't 'Elf magic,' i can tell you that!"

"Do you insult me?" Glorfindel said with sudden indignity.

"Never, _mellon-nín_," Erestor said, voice dripping with his distinguishing biting wit.

Glorfindel just shook his head, these exchanges far too familiar to mind any longer. "You do his paperwork, i intend to keep him distracted from these heavy thoughts of his by giving him a good run for his money with the dueling foil. He should be keeping up his skills with the sword as well as the pen."

Erestor mirrored Glorfindel's action and started to take some papers from a stack near Faramir. Faramir sat straight, waking suddenly at the nearby movement. Without warning the young Steward gripped the Elf's sleeve and pulled him forward, before he realized it was Elrond's chief counselor. He slowly released his grip, looking disoriented.

"Forgive me, Master Erestor, i thought you were...." Faramir trailed off still at a loss over what he had just envisioned.

"A thief?" Erestor said with a slight grin, straightening up again.

"No... I... I must go," Faramir said rising unsteadily. He looked the Elves concerned expressions. "My father trusts you both, does he not?"

"Of course he does, young Faramir," Glorfindel said, disquiet reflecting in his eyes.

"Good, the kingdom is in your care until we return." Faramir was quiet for a moment, looking as if he was reliving something dreadful. "I never should have let her go," he said running forth from his study.

The two advisors exchanged troubled glances and went after him. As was expected they found him in the stable, saddling his horse hastily. Glorfindel laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Do not try to stop me," Faramir said trying to concentrate on the horse. "It is my fault. I have to go."

"Faramir, just tell us where you are going," Glorfindel said steadily.

"To Éowyn," he said simply. "They can't have gone far, they won't even be through Druadan yet at the pace they were at."

"And how far will you get before nightfall, Faramir, as exhausted as you are?" Erestor asked rationally.

"I don't care. I will ride through the night. I have made a terrible mistake... i just did not know that it was so...." He stopped, choked with tears he refused to shed.

"Wait, Faramir, tell us what is going on before you go. You saw something in a dream, tell us" Glorfindel was much better at hiding his disapproval of Faramir's haste than Erestor, concealing it in gradual attempts to just delay the Steward.

"I saw Éowyn," Faramir said, his voice shaking against his will. "She must have been in Edoras, i recognized nothing. She was standing with a soldier, one of the Rohirrim by the look of his emblem." Faramir's breathing became labored. "He had her by her wrists -" he broke off, rage sweeping him.

"Faramir..." Erestor said calmly.

"I will delay no longer, my lord," Faramir said in fey voice, mounting his charger who reflected his master's impatience, pawing the floor and shaking his head furiously. Glorfindel and Erestor stepped aside just as Faramir's horse burst from his stable and galloped loudly out of the city.

Shaking their heads they walked back to the Citadel. Glorfindel glanced around the great Hall of Kings doubtfully.

"Reminds you of Gondolin, does it?" Erestor said. "Then the reins are all yours, and when the people of this city rise up and term us usurpers, do not call on me. After all, since you have such memories, you know very well what caused Gondolin's fall and the fall of all Beleriand."

Both advisors knew well that old demons die hard, but Glorfindel knew it better. Still, he was sure that Faramir would not succumb to what many of his kin did in the first age.

Sometime late in the night Glorfindel woke suddenly to a terrible realization. He had filled Faramir's waterskin with a mixture of fresh water and water from the Enchanted River when he saw Faramir preparing to go down to the river that morning. He had hoped that the Steward would take a sip and get some rest.


	33. Love, Let Me Sleep Tonight

As the evening sun burned lower and lower Faramir rode all the faster. No other horse in Minas Tirith could have withstood the pace he was driving. It was as though his very life depended on the time he could make. When darkness had long since fallen and Faramir had difficulty seeing his way, not only because of the night, but because of his own fatigued, bleary eyes, he put all his faith in the charger and rode blindly on through the Stonewain Valley.

Faramir rode on unceasingly at breakneck pace even though his body screamed at him to sleep before going one step further. His horse was perfectly loyal though and did not falter once. Faramir was beginning to believe what the stable master had always insisted about the war horse being of at least half-blood Mearas breed. When he began to sense the world behind him in the east growing lighter, the Steward slowly down and allowed the horse a moment to drink from a nearby stream and to graze. Faramir sat edgily under a tree wishing he could be enjoying this outing.

He had not stopped trembling with fury for at least an hour after rushing from the city. The only thing he knew at this point was that he would not sit patiently in a comfortable walled city and wait for Éowyn's return. He had done that the last time and his vision had proved to him his error.

Faramir decided that he needed to be back on the road and remounted, his body protesting very loudly. Little did the Steward know that the funeral march of Theoden had taken the northward route around Druadan and that in taking the southern road through Stonewain he had already gotten ahead of them.

Before starting off he allowed himself a couple drinks from his skin, then quickly charged off again. Over the next hour's ride Faramir found himself hardly able to sit upright and was often letting his eyes go closed for a moment or two or three before nearly slipping and waking again with a start. Luckily his horse required little direction and kept up the pace without urging. Before long Faramir was nearly laying his head on the horse's neck, but he still stubbornly refused to stop or even slow down a little. Again he let his eyes close only this time sleep took advantage of the opportunity and Faramir fell into a very deep sleep, falling to a heap by the roadside.

It was at the same time back in Minas Tirith that Glorfindel had finally summoned the courage to tell Erestor that the Steward had ridden out with his water supply containing a sleeping draft made from the famed water of Mirkwood.

---

"You gave him WHAT?" Erestor shouted.

Glorfindel drew himself up with as much pride as he possibly could. "The idea was that he should drink it at the riverbank and have some sleep. He did not sleep that night, i could hear him pacing until dawn. When that guard told me he found him asleep i figured it worked. Then when we found him sleeping in the study i thought it just had not yet worn off. In the stable i handed him his waterskin, fortunately i saw he had left it by his desk... i noticed it was a little heavy yet, but i thought nothing of it -"

"Fortunately, you say? You have been trying to find new ways to get killed ever since Námo sent you back here after you slew that Balrog, haven't you? See here now, good master of the Golden Flower, you will not drag me down with you like a fell demon! If you have any sense of decency left you will go out there and find that boy," Erestor more told than suggested.

"What about you? It would be faster if we split up," Glorfindel offered.

"Oh no!" Erestor said, backing away. "You got yourself, and that poor young man, into this; now you can very well get back out on your own. Besides, someone has to stay here and keep order with these people, if they don't behead me. I do not believe they are all as educated as Faramir. Now go and find him. In case you are not aware, he is not going to sleep well for a night like Elrond or i, or you, would under such influence. He will probably be asleep for a week or so. That leaves you plenty of time to find him before someone else does and me plenty of time to end up being deposed or more."

After Glorfindel left Erestor sat back wondering why he did not just stay in nice, peaceful Imladris with the elderly Hobbit.

---

_So the young Steward will be getting some much needed rest after all... :)_

_To AM: You are most welcome, Middle-earth history lessons are my specialty! Faramir's dream - that depends on what you think it means, but i think it will become clear soon. Our Faramir was a little too irate to do much explaining for us or the poor Elves from Rivendell last time around. _

_To all other reviewers: You are all wonderful. I appreciate any and all input. Some seem a little more lenient than others with our favorite Steward. Don't be too rough on him though, he's had a rough life._


	34. I Against I

After five days in the Druadan forest, Glorfindel came across Faramir's horse. The Balrog slayer could glean nothing from the animal regarding his master's whereabouts so sent him back to the city. He did not realize that it might not be taken well, the Steward's horse returning without him. Every day that Glorfindel was still searching the forest, Erestor had another fire to put out with some angry citizen, or group of them. He had to force himself to keep from cursing the very day Estel had come to Imladris, and he was certain that if he ever saw Gondor's king again he would tell him exactly what he thought about his kingdom, then promptly get to the Havens and be gone West.

Glorfindel had neglected to get from Faramir what path he had chosen before the Steward charged off, then assumed that there would be a shortcut through the forest somewhere like in respectable Elf woods. In truth, for all his great wisdom, the fair Elf had practically no acquaintance with such mortal realms as this but what old maps might indicate. Glorfindel was not as stubborn as Faramir, nor as high-strung as his colleague, and he allowed himself and Asfaloth rest now and then. He figured Faramir wouldn't be going anywhere soon and it would be no good to either of them if he and the horse were too weary to bear them back.

Searching near the south-west edge of the forest nearest the end of the valley, Glorfindel's Elf eyes spotted something by the roadside that had a vaguely human appearance. It had been two weeks since he set out. Drawing up and kneeling beside the young man it was obvious that he was alive and well, just sound asleep. As he lifted Faramir up he thought maybe he should have stuck to riding out after Hobbits instead. As he was just getting Faramir a little steady in the saddle the Steward started to wake again.

As the dream cloud left Faramir's eyes and he came back to the reality of the situation he stared at Glorfindel. "Where am i?" was all he wanted to know.

"Right where you last remember yourself. How much did you drink from your waterskin?" Glorfindel asked, trying to assess whether or not the Steward would be asleep again before long.

"I drank about half, why? What happened to me?" Faramir questioned, still a little dazed.

"You fell asleep. You should have listened to Erestor," Glorfindel said, neatly evading the matter of what exactly caused Faramir's deep sleep.

Faramir shook his head though and reached for the reins. "How long did i sleep? What kind of time am i missing?" he asked with great concern.

"I have been searching for you for two weeks now, but please, wait a little longer and we will ride together," Glorfindel said, tactically placing a hand on Asfaloth's forehead, a signal between them that this was not the time to leave.

Faramir looked desperate hearing he had lost two weeks. "I can not wait any longer, Master Glorfindel. This is a serious matter, i have told you already. I do not know if my vision warned me of something that i could put a stop to, or if it was just meant to... show me what i must avenge."

Glorfindel nodded, knowing a little more about visions than the Steward and knowing there was nothing that could now be prevented. "Very well, young Faramir. Let us be off then." Glorfindel jumped up with Faramir. Taking a drink from his own skin, he advised Faramir to have a sip also to refresh him. Glorfindel stopped him at just a sip though. It was, he knew, the only way he was going to get the young man to cooperate enough to get him back to the city. "_Noro lim_," Glorfindel instructed his charger, wondering how long it would be before he could turn about and get back to Minas Tirith. It was already mid-day and he hoped to be back before the next dawn.

Sleep took Gondor's Steward again in less than half an hour.

---

Back in the Citadel, Erestor had taken to locking himself in either the chambers Aragorn granted him or in the Steward's study. He moved from room to room only at night, unintentionally giving the guards of the tower terrible scares at all hours. For a week Erestor did nothing but give explanations about Faramir's sudden departure. Even though the only thing he would ever say was, "your Steward has left temporarily on an extremely important and confidential mission," he was pressed for more everyday. At this point there were now no actual authority figures to be found in Gondor, as even Imrahil was with Theoden's funeral escort.

Erestor did all that he felt rightly able to in Faramir's place. There was some correspondences that he had no trouble answering as he might have for Elrond. Though the Wood-elf in him was constantly tempted to respond to several letters with a personal invitation from Aragorn to come spend a month in the Citadel as a guest, he refrained. He told himself that Estel would certainly have enough comeuppance just running his kingdom for the misery he put the Elf through as a child. And when Erestor thought that one day the king would have children just like he was, nothing could repress the grin over the Elf's features.

When finally Glorfindel arrived back at the White City, sleeping Steward and all, Erestor was entirely relieved. Faramir was taken immediately to his bed and slept there for two days, while the citizens grew restless and afraid that this was something like what assaulted their beloved Faramir during the war.

Glorfindel took over for Erestor with the explanations and had much more success, him being more disposed to leading the masses. He promised every person who came to him, either individually or by crowd, that Faramir was doing very well but that he was also in need of rest (to which everyone sympathetically agreed). Glorfindel also assured them that there was no medicine better than Elvish medicine, and if he couldn't be cared for by Elrond himself, the Elf Lord's second-in-command was just as skilled.

When Faramir finally woke again it took him a few moments to realize that he was in his own bed. He felt so weakened that it was difficult for him to sit upright. Erestor appeared from, seemingly, out of nowhere and handed Faramir something to drink, which was eyed almost suspiciously.

"It will help you regain some strength quickly. Though you will still have to keep yourself nourished, and not rush off impetuously," Erestor said, sounding unrelenting.

Faramir dropped back against his pillow, party of weakness and partly of lack of expectation that Erestor would understand. "Please, listen, i can not stay here. What am i doing here, how did i get back here? Glorfindel and i were heading toward Edoras."

Now it was Glorfindel's turn to appear. "Faramir, about that...." The fair Elf could hardly believe that he was nervous about admitting it, but he knew Faramir wouldn't appreciate the pretense and drugging. "The water in your skin was actually a mixture. I put a little enchanted water from Mirkwood in with fresh water so that you would get some sleep. I did not realize it was that same water that you had on your journey until the night you left. It was that morning i came looking for you, but since you did not tell us your road..." the rest was too obvious to bother finishing.

The expression of shock on Faramir's face gave way to disheartenment. "Did you neither understand what i tried to tell of the vision i had? That villain took her, do you not understand? If i can stop harm coming to Éowyn -"

"There is nothing to stop, Faramir," Glorfindel said as caringly as he could. "Your visions do not warn you of what is imminent. That is not how the Valar work through you. Instead you are shown what has already come to pass, that you might be better able to react and respond. Do you see, Faramir? It is better now for you to remain here, prepare for her return, take care of the kingdom and citizens you love. When she comes back to you the time will be matured and then will your compassion be best accepted. She is in good care, between Arwen and Lady Galadhriel she is among friends and not alone in her despair, they will support her as much as she needs. Trust me, Faramir. Trust us."

Faramir sighed feeling weak again. "There is nothing i can do?"

Erestor could not force back a wry laugh when he thought of the many stacks of missives just waiting for the young man. "There is plenty you can do, Faramir. Take care of yourself and your kingdom. I understand your motives, and so would he, but all the same i do not think your father would appreciate you abandoning your post."

Faramir closed his eyes in self-annoyance, "Denethor would have had me court-martialed by now."

Glorfindel and Erestor exchanged glances, Glorfindel speaking up first, "That is no longer a threat, Faramir. Anyway, if you do not tell your father, we will not tell him."

Faramir looked thankfully at the two Elves, both remembering that same look in young Estel's eyes on many various occasions. "You said something about nutrition... i feel as though i have been a guest at a grand feast for two weeks but i have not been able to touch a thing," Faramir said recounting the dreams he had while asleep, hoping to give a hint to his caretakers.

As the two Elves left him, promising to return with plenty of nourishment, Glorfindel turned to Erestor. "Only Thranduil would enchant that water so that the victim dreamed of one of his festivals."

"It is a fortunate matter for Aragorn that the prince of Mirkwood did not inherit his father's conceit. The man would have been driven mad by now."

That night while Erestor and Glorfindel rested with satisfaction, Faramir was plagued with the knowledge that there was nothing he could now do but provide Éowyn comfort and compassion, and hope the Valar would grant him forgiveness for his insensitive behavior. Now that he had time to reflect, he could not understand why he acted as he did. It was as though he did not order his own actions. Before dawn rose he made up his mind that even if he could not prevent her harm, he must go immediately to be with her. Not Elf, nor Man, nor Dwarf, nor Hobbit, nor Orc would prevent his departure this time.


	35. Despite the Tears

When daylight finally broke Faramir went to find Lord Elrond's coadjutants. Glorfindel seemed to understand and accept the fact that Faramir felt he needed to be gone again without delay. Erestor eventually accepted the fact, though that did not mean he had to be pleased with it. The haste with which Men conducted their lives was not at all comfortable to the highly efficient Elf.

To appease the discontented Erestor, Faramir promised he would give notice to the people himself of his departure. Much to Erestor's delight he asked that Glorfindel oversee the needs of the soldiers and let Erestor to the paperwork. Though the Steward had not a totally easy feeling about leaving his kingdom in the hands of the two oft bickering Elves, he felt that if they were good enough for Elrond, so too they were good enough for Gondor.

Finally by midday Faramir was able to be on his way, this time being very cautious of what sort of water supply he had. Again he set out for Stonewain valley, but not at quite the same pace as the last time. He allowed himself and his steed a few hours sleep each night before carrying on. On his fourth night out, Faramir slept in the Firien Wood and two days afterward he was in sight of Meduseld at the rising of the sun. Faramir decided to stay back and gather his thoughts until he saw some signs of life from the city.

It was another childhood habit of Faramir's that he was ill at ease to ever wake anyone from their sleep. It was understandable after Faramir had gone to Denethor's chamber one night shortly after his mother's death. Denethor had woken startled, pulling out a knife he mistrustfully kept under his pillow and frightening young Faramir, only to tell him callously to get back sleep.

The first stirrings Faramir saw was a long procession going out from the city. Faramir stayed where he was, rightly guessing this sight to be Theoden's burial march, something he would not interrupt with his unlooked for appearance. The young Steward took the time to rest and recover his strength as he stayed out of sight to all but a few of the more observant and inquisitive Elves. Only when after a long while did the gathered disperse again to the city did Faramir ride forth.

Faramir approached the city gates and spoke to the sentry there. Upon hearing the name of the Steward the guard immediately opened the gate to him and offered to take his horse for him. He recommended Faramir to see the guard at the palace door, who would in turn show him to the feast that was soon to take place.

In the hall Faramir first saw Aragorn speaking with Elrond, but as he began to approach his father he noticed through a multitude of Elves and soldiers Éowyn across the room. She looked as though she was trying to remain hidden and out of the way. Faramir sighed, pain striking his heart to see her looking so lonely and hopeless. She had not seen him and he went to her quietly, unsure of how his being there would be accepted.

"Lady Éowyn," he said genteelly as bowing.

She turned to see him, her heart racing, both startled by his unannounced approach and with a mixture of hope and dread of his intention. She hoped that he had come for her. She dreaded that he had come on dealings of the kingdom. The sincerity in his eyes did much to reassure her, though she still hesitated to respond to him.

"Éowyn... where might you and i talk together?" he asked, finally feeling ready to face the issue at hand.

Wordlessly she lead him to the library of Meduseld. It was a small, private room, but generally more comfortable than the rest of the place. Faramir could not help but wonder where all the other books were kept, thinking he probably had as many just in his study and here and there in his chambers. Most of the wall space wasn't even shelves but tapestries depicting Rohan's emblems.

Inside Faramir decided to throw away the majority of what he had planned to say to Éowyn. At this point explanations were less necessary than actions. Faramir knelt before her and reached for her hand. For one moment she was tempted to withdraw and refuse, but she remembered the world of the Elven White Lady that Faramir would support her, and she rested her hand in his.

Words were not needed for their exchange and Faramir rose to embrace her gently. "Éowyn...."  
"Faramir, i do not act justly to give you my hand, and now given you may yet refuse to take it, but i must tell you." Éowyn spoke with resolution, sounding as though she was forcing herself to remain steady.

Faramir knew already what her words would be. He so wanted to stop her from speaking them and simply calm her, but he knew all too well the healing effect that confiding secret hurts held. Instead of telling her that he already knew what she would say, he held her close to him and let her rest her head on his shoulder. "You can tell me, Éowyn," he said softly.

At first she spoke with pride and a surprising decorum of the repeated improper advances of one of the newest captains promoted upon Éomer's return to Edoras. She told Faramir how she tried to simply ignore and avoid the lecherous soldier. He felt her trembling with rage and tension at the memory. She told him that she became afraid to be alone unless she was sure all doors were securely barred, and that suddenly she began to question the intent of every man who so much as nodded to her. She was no longer able to fight back her tears when she told Faramir of the morning she went to the stable to ride away for a while to get away from the prison the palace had become.

He found her saddling her horse and closed in on her when she was trapped there in the pen with the animal, which he sent running off at the flick of a lash. She had stood firm and fought against him with all her considerable rage, but she had no weapon for defense and in the end the strong man overpowered her and showed no mercy. He left her with a harsh warning that no word of his deed must ever reach the King's ears, lest there be much more for her to be fearful of.

It had taken her a long time to get through what she needed to say, Faramir quietly holding her up all the while. She wept bitterly against him, so grateful to have told someone and to feel compassion and comfort. He held on to her until every tear was spent and she was reduced to just trembling. Faramir walked her over to a comfortable settee and they sat together quietly for a while. He knew she did not need his sympathy, only his presence.

Faramir decided to keep his own rage in check until he was sure Éowyn would not think he was angry with her. Out in the hallway Éomer could be heard calling for his sister to come and join them in the Golden Hall.

"You do not have to, Éowyn. We can stay here if you prefer," he whispered.

She shook her head though. "No, Faramir. I will not hide in fear and shame as long as you are beside me."  
"I am beside you," he confirmed solemnly, again taking up her hand.

Éowyn smiled brightly through her tears, having finally heard words that she had deemed beyond hope. "Thank you, Faramir..." she said, gripping his hand and rising.

As they went out from the library toward the hall, Éomer came rushing through, hardly noticing Faramir. "Come on, Éowyn, they want to get this meal- Lord Faramir! I did not expect to see you this day."

"No indeed, Éomer King," Faramir said with a gentlemanly bow. "I have come as a petitioner to you, good sir king."

Éomer looked questioningly at the Steward of Gondor, wondering what he could be getting at.

"I come to ask you for your dear sister's hand," Faramir said.

Éomer glanced between Éowyn and the Steward once or twice before a smile ever so slowly slipped over him. "It seems you give this by your will, Éowyn?" he asked without really needed to, her smile speaking for her.

"Yes i do, brother," she responded simply.

"Then it you shall have, Lord Faramir!" the King of Rohan pronounced gladly. "So this day shall end as joyfully as it began mournfully."

---

_Did any of you cry at this like i did?_

_Well, since Doc Manager has actually been hitting more than missing, i guess that "self-review" should just be ignored. _

_There is more soon to come - i think i may take this story up to the birth... who knows. Hopefully our Steward has redeemed himself a little with some of you??? _

_to AM: I love those two Elves... it is a definite possibility. Any premise ideas, etc?_

_to linda: What a loyal reviewer! Thanks! Hopefully this chapter answered your latest question._


	36. There's a Moon Asking to Stay

Together the three entered the hall, this time Faramir going directly to Aragorn. "My King..." he said kneeling.

Aragorn turned to see him and would have burst out in laughter at the sight of his son kneeling to him, even around those who did not know, if it were not for his sheer surprise to see him. "Faramir? When did you come - arise -" he said rolling his eyes, forgetting that in these public situations he actually had to tell people to stand up. He seriously debated disposing of that annoying custom.

"This morning," Faramir replied dropping formality with a slight grin.

Aragorn embraced him. "It is good to see you, i had missed our.... Faramir... who...?" he trailed off guardedly, realizing that now both the King and the Steward of Gondor were here in Rohan.

"You trust Masters Glorfindel and Erestor, do you not?" His father went slightly pale.

"Yes, i trust them," he said not so sure of himself. "Well, i trust Erestor. I trust Glor' as well, just not with anything... political."

Elrond rested his hands on their shoulders. "Your kingdom is in fine hands. Many times did i go forth from Imladris leaving the keeping to them. The only thing you have to worry about is staying away too long. If you do, you run the risk of them having killed each other before you return." Elrond's grin told the two that he was very serious about the last statement.

"Well, i have a few matters to take care of here before i go home. A little visiting the attractions, you might say. How long did you intend to stay, my s-Steward?" he asked, catching himself before saying 'son.'

"I do not know, my King," he added with a smirk. He quickly resumed his serious countenance though. "I shall stay as long as Éowyn needs me here, or until she will come back to Minas Tirith." Faramir was silent for a moment. "I asked Éomer for her hand just now."

Aragorn nodded his approval. "You did right, my son," he said in a whisper, embracing Faramir. "I am proud of you."

This was still almost a foreign feeling to Faramir, he still couldn't get over what it felt like to have a father who was proud of him.

Elrond put an arm around each of the men. "I am exceedingly proud of you both. The two of you are a credit to the Mortal race that i thought might have no hope. I can leave here in peace knowing that, as long as your lines survives, Middle-earth is in good hands."

As the feast drew to an end Eomer rose and announced Faramir and Éowyn's betrothal to the gathered, much to their delight. After the proclamation of the bonding of the two kingdoms, the rejoicing carried on long into the night. At one point Galadhriel went to them and taking Éowyn's hand and Faramir's she smiled, a mysterious light shining in her eyes.

"The time of Elvendom in Middle-earth has come to end, this i now know beyond recall of hope, for until this moment have i failed to see a thing in the days to come," the Elf-lady said. "Éowyn of Rohan, you bear not only a fair daughter, but a strong and handsome son also," she said, her smile growing wide as her eyes rested then on Faramir.

For the first time Faramir had the impression that the Lady of the Wood was not just looking at him but reading him and searching his heart. Her expression transformed from beaming joy to one of gravity and recognition. "A dark shadow did cover your heart, Faramir, though it came when many thought the Shadow driven out with finality. Yet it had not the strength to claim you and keep you in its power. You fought against it, for you are pure of heart, and with the aid of friends unlooked for the shadow that so often divides the hearts of Men has been destroyed and is gone from you. Though it seems so small a thing now to the minds of those who are but newly come, i knew the terror of the Black Foe and watched Beleriand fall to jealousy and divisiveness and false sorrows sown into hearts by the fell lies of Morgoth. Count yourself among the strongest of heart, Faramir, son of Aragorn."

Faramir pressed a hand to his heart, deeply bowing to Galadhriel. "Your words are great honor to me, my Lady, such that i have not the hope to repay."

She smiled gently to him. "You are in no debt, Faramir, if you but remain true." She then, with Celeborn, Elrond, and Arwen departed Meduseld with the twin sons of Elrond. The family were not seen again in Edoras for three days, for their parting from each other would be bitter.

Shortly after Éowyn retired to her chambers for the night. One by one guests dwindled away hither and thither until the only ones left were Faramir, Aragorn, Éomer, Gandalf, and Gimli, who was sound asleep right where Legolas had left him at the feast.

"Did Legolas slip Mirkwood water into his ale?" Faramir had to ask of the snoring Dwarf.

Gandalf did nothing to repress a chuckle at the memory of the tale of Thorin's company's venture through Mirkwood that resulted in Bombur's extended nap after he fell into the Enchanted River.

"That's the last thing i need," Aragorn said, starting to sound a little ill-tempered for lack of sleep. "I can just imagine trying to drag a sleeping dwarf all over Middle-earth."

"Which is exactly why Legolas would not," Gandalf said sagely. "Though i am sure he would do almost anything to get out of his promise to visit the Glittering Caves, enchanted water never did make for a well paced journey."

Faramir smiled, shaking his head. "You have no idea, Mithrandir. I would have been here two weeks ago if not for the stuff."

Eyebrows were raised from Aragorn and Gandalf, now considerably interested in how water from the Enchanted River had delayed the Steward, but Éomer spoke first. "I wish you had come sooner, Lord Faramir. Since we returned here after the war, Éowyn has acted so strangely. She had not been herself at all until you arrived this day. I have you to thank for enlivening her again."

Faramir shook his head, refraining from any more because he knew it was not for him to explain. However, it did remind him of his reason for coming to Edoras, and he renewed his silent vow to find the perpetrator and see justice done. Gandalf perceived this in the young man and was quick to offer a distraction.

"Tell us, if you will, Faramir, just how exactly you know of Mirkwood's river-water," requested the elderly Wizard.

"That is a long story, Mithrandir, one i only partly understand or remember. What i am told is that because i spent the night after you left awake and pacing, and obviously annoying a certain Elf with the noise, he decided to put enchanted water in my skin when i went to the river in the morning. I did not drink any of it but i fell asleep on the bank of my own accord. Later i fell asleep again in my study. I had a vision which told me i should be here with Éowyn," Faramir guarded his words carefully around Éomer, whereas he might have explained more to his father and Mithrandir.

"I went to ride out here immediately, leaving those to my charge of the city. I took the same water skin, but did not drink of it till the next morning. When i did i grew too sleepy to even think straight and i must have fall off my horse. Really i suppose it's a wonder i wasn't hurt in the fall, but i suppose sleeping for two weeks might have helped heal me if i had been hurt. The next thing i remember is being propped up on a horse again, Lord Glorfindel's charger, and explaining to him that i needed to get here all the quicker for losing so much time. He assented and said he would go with me, since there was now only one horse between us. He suggested i take a sip of water to regain my strength. It was a wonder to me that i had any strength at all, i must surely have been running on pure willpower.

"Of course, i fell asleep again, and he lead me back to Minas Tirith where i sleep for another two days. When i woke i was told about this enchanted water and for a few minutes i had the burning desire to strangle Glorfindel, fortunately for him i was too weak to lift my own head. That night i made up my mind i must come here and i set out in the morning. I told the people that Glorfindel and Erestor were in charge, since it seems they have had more experience than any of us."

Aragorn shook his head, laughing reminiscently. "Elrond used to use enchanted water all the time on me, it was often the only way he could get a moment's peace. I've built up an immunity to it. Glorfindel is too long away from us mortals though, he probably thought he gave you enough of the stuff for a nice night's sleep. I get the feeling Erestor probably wanted to strangle him too."

"Perhaps i should try to return to Minas Tirith as soon as possible?" Faramir asked in growing concern.

"No, you should stay here. I am pleased that your sense of duty is truer than mine was at your age. You may be Steward of Gondor, but that does not mean that your stewardship is necessarily your first priority. There are things in life much more important."

Somewhere in the middle of Faramir's tale Éomer had gone the way of Gimli and was now sound asleep in his place. Faramir looked at Éomer, then cast a wary eye about to make sure there were no others to overhear. "Father, that vision i mentioned, what impelled me to come in such haste... i saw Éowyn... some soldier had taken advantage of her." Rage began to edge into his voice. "When i came here she told me of it herself."

Aragorn looked to be deeply shocked by this revelation. "Éomer shall have to know this, Faramir, in order to bring that man to justice."

"I know father, but that must be her choice, not ours," Faramir said wisely.

Aragorn thought of it momentarily. "You are right, ion-nín. Do what you can to convince her to speak with her brother though. I would see this justice done before we leave here."

"As would i, father, and i shall do all i can to see to it."

"Galadhriel had little luck in convincing her," Gandalf said, apparently knowing more than he originally let on, as usual. "But you stand a better chance, Faramir," he said with a knowing smile.

"Gandalf is right, Faramir. She would listen to you, you are probably the only person in Middle-earth who wields that power," Aragorn said.

"Maybe so, maybe not so. Time will tell," mused Faramir. "I still do not know if i love her as she loves me. I am so unsure of this and it was not love that drove me here but compassion. A man may have compassion for that which he does not love. I could not remain in Gondor while she suffered; i know when i am needed. She needs a husband who will take care of her. For all her strength of will, she is still a woman and as such has certain needs. Now if what the White Lady says is true, her needs are doubled. I do not think i love her in my deepest heart, but i am willing to make this sacrifice for her comfort."

"Your rewards will be great, Faramir, for all that you have sacrificed of yourself," Gandalf said as he rose from the table. "Now i think we should all have some rest, morning will dawn sooner than we think."

The two men left waking also rose, Aragorn agreeing that sleep was well in order. Faramir, however, disagreed. "Go ahead, father; i, myself, am sick of sleep. I could use some fresh air though. If you need me, look for me outdoors."

Aragorn nodded and went his way as did Gandalf. Faramir headed out of the palace and sat back on the stairs, his eyes fixed on the stars above. The moon was nearly set already and Faramir knew it would be another sleepless night.

---

"_Vedui_, Faramir," came a peaceful voice from nearby.

Faramir turned to greet his company. "_Mae govannen_, Legolas. So the stars call you at all hours too?"

Legolas laughed appreciatively. "They do, but lack of sleep is not a burden to me as it is to you."

"Aye," Faramir agreed, "but i've had far too much sleep lately. I suppose you did not hear of what happened to me with the water from your homeland?"

Legolas held up a hand. "Say no more, _mellon-nín_, i already understand. It feels as though it has been a life-age since i last looked upon that black water."

Faramir nodded contemplatively. "You too shall return to your home soon, is that true?"

"Aye. Though it seems i have a promise to fulfill yet," Legolas said with a very slight smirk. "Still, i should see home before the last of the leaves have dropped. It is as i promised, we shall return to Gondor before very long."

"That is well, Ithilien is in great need of Elven life. There were times i would look upon the land, even in spring, and would find no cheer in aught."

Legolas was quiet for a moment, sensing that Faramir's inability to find liveliness in the woodland had more to do with the weight of the cares he bore than all else. "I have walked upon the land of Middle-earth for more years than the oldest of trees in Ithilien has stood. Still every year the opening of the tiniest leaves of spring enthralls me. And every summer the fruit from the trees tastes all the sweeter. Each autumn i am in wonder of the hues that surround me. And every winter i still tread as lightly upon the snow. Yet all these wonders are of Middle-earth's realms and i know not what may be found across the Sea, and i am called to go one day. I hear the cry of the gull even in the deep of night. The only thing one can do while here is enjoy the journey, Faramir; and to help to better others enjoy their journey is a noble act. Looking back, I enjoyed my travel with my friends, though our purpose was unjoyful. One never knows what may come of a venture, nor can one anticipate the friends one will encounter, though your father and i were hunting Gollum years before Lord Elrond's council."

It did not immediately register with the young Faramir that Legolas was also in on the secret. "It is not possible to keep truths from the Eldar, is it?" Faramir asked, beginning to grow a little sleepy.

"No, it is rarely at all possible to hide from Elven discernment. Aragorn did not tell me though, it was plain enough. When were we on hunt together, every village we passed through he would ask anyone he saw if there was any word from Gondor and of the new Captain of the Ithilien Rangers. Yet it did not become all clear to me until our rest in Lorien last winter, how he listened to every word Boromir spoke of you with utmost concern. Aragorn is a good friend, a fine leader, and, i am sure, a good father. You take after him in all things. Including the pressure you put on yourself," Legolas said, clapping Faramir's shoulder. "Take some sleep if you can. At least rest your body, if not your mind. You mortal children would live longer if you but took better care of yourselves," Legolas said with that impossible to fault Sindarin Elf grin.

_Isil_ had since made himself scarce, releasing Faramir of his call to vigilance. The young man decided to take Legolas's advice and went to find a place to fall sleep.

---

_Vedui = Greetings_

_Isil = the moon_

_Lots of guy talk here. Some chapters i seem to be in a more "conversation" mood than an "action" mood, but i guess it all balances out in the end. _

_Can't think of anything i need to address here as of now. Anyone have any suggestions for appropriate sentence for the as yet unnamed captain of the Rohirrim?_


	37. Crown My Fear Your King

Morning came and went before Faramir was awake again. Sunlight glared through a window, blinding the young man. He started to rise very cautiously, not clearly remembering where he was. The sounds of horses outside reminded him quickly enough.

Going to the window and looking out over the land about him he found himself wishing he was in Minas Tirith again. Rohan was not the most beautiful land in Middle-earth. he thought. Faramir wondered how the White City was faring when his thoughts were drawn away by a knock at the door. Aragorn entered and tossed an apple to his son.

"I take it you slept well?" he said with a grin.

"I did not think i would get any sleep last night. I guess my body decided that for me in the end," Faramir said with a yawn.

"You do not remember me leading you in here, do you?" Aragorn chuckled.

Faramir just shook his head. "I wondered how i got here. Thank you."

"Think nothing of it, you would do the same for me," Aragorn said, letting himself fall onto the bed. He was again growing used to proper, comfortable sleeping arrangements as opposed to tree roots, rocks, and uneven, cold ground. "We are leaving in a few days. Gandalf wants to have a look in on the situation at Isengard, Legolas and Gimli are going to Helm's Deep along the way, then they are going to Fangorn. When i see the Hobbits off with Gandalf and the Lord and Lady of Lorien, i will return here briefly before going back to Gondor and relieving Glorfindel and Erestor of their burdens... that is to say, each other. I think you might do well to stay here for a while. As you said, you are needed. I have already talked to Imrahil, he intends to stay, as does Arwen, so she told me before they left last night."

Faramir reflected for a moment, nibbling at the piece of fruit. "I miss home, father. Yet, i know i should remain here a while, and i will, as long as i must."

"Just remember that Éowyn needs to stay here until after she is delivered. You can not have her out riding...." Aragorn thought better of his warning to Faramir. "Let me rephrase that, you can not let her insist that she is well enough to go out riding."

Faramir smiled, if weakly. "I will do all i can. Perhaps i can return to the city temporarily? It is not a difficult journey from here to there, perhaps i could go between Edoras and Minas Tirith frequently?" Faramir thought aloud, being seated.

"You do miss home. That could be a wise idea, but if i were you i would bring it up to Éowyn first," Aragorn advised. "You have not yet talked to her about speaking with her brother?"

"No, i only just woke before you knocked. I should want to speak to her as soon as possible though." Faramir rose again, pulling a tunic over his shirt. "I agree that Éomer must know in order to deal justice. What is justice for such a crime?"

Aragorn shook his head in aversion, "i can think of a few things. Faramir, there is one thing i must ask you. When you and Éowyn were in the Houses -"

"Do we have to discuss this, father?" Faramir asked resignedly. "I don't rightly know what happened. In that dreadful nightfall i thought all hope was gone. I lost heart and yielded. My brother had died, the man i thought was my father killed himself and tried to take me with him, i was just coming out a fever.... These things i do not call as excuses, father, but reasons. And when that black despair closed in and yet i felt the love of another.... It was the one time in my life that i ever acted without thinking things through."

"Faramir, you do not have to explain to me," Aragorn said. "All i meant to ask was if..."

"Do you accuse me of -"

"I accuse you of nothing," Aragorn said quickly, seeing Faramir's disturbance. "I know you better than that. You are my son after all."

Faramir nodded. "I am sorry i said that, father."

Aragorn shook his head though. "You are weary, i understand."

"The Lady of Lorien said something strange to me last night. I did not wholly understand what she meant. She spoke of a shadow that was on my heart but is now gone. She also referred to the terror Morgoth."

"The evil of Morgoth was deeply and easily sown in Men," Aragorn said. "It abides in some yet, those like Éowyn's assailant. But Morgoth's truest power was in the evil ability to make Men despair and so fall to reckless acts without being at all evil themselves. When the despair is gone again, oft has it been the downfall of many a strong man to see the truth of what happened."

"Is that what she speaks of then? My reckless act? The night that you all left Minas Tirith i felt the same despair. I felt as though i was forsaken because of my failing. I heard Denethor's words to Boromir, telling my brother that i was naught but a weakling. Perhaps his words were true though."

"Faramir," Aragorn said with a adamant tone, "i do not wish to hear you say such things of yourself. Do not believe those lies. You know the truth, you must not allow lies to cloud your heart and mind. Faramir," Aragorn's attitude grew softer, "it is as my Elven brothers are often wont to say... 'you are only human.' Every man living has had failings, and despite what the twins say, there is no perfect being, there are none here without some chink in their armor. You, Faramir, have done better than most. You take responsibility for what you do. There are those who, in your place, would run, mostly from themselves. Does Éowyn forgive you, or did she ever blame you in the first place?"

Faramir stared at nothing out the open window, the sun light was still intense and he had to pull his gaze from it. "I do not know, father."

Aragorn laid a hand on his son's shoulder. "Then go and find out. If you forgives you or holds you blameless, i charge you with granting yourself forgiveness. This once do i speak not as your father, but as your king."

Faramir smirked at this sudden use of power, seeing that Aragorn was beginning to realize the advantages of office. A quick, provisional bow covered the deep-impressed habit of acknowledging an order from one's superior.

"Go on, my son. Speak with your lady, you may find her in the hall, i believe, and see if she will consent to talk to her brother. You and i shall need to talk later. I'm glad you are rested today, i believe maps and Imrahil will be involved in our discussion later," Aragorn said, a touch of wry making its way into his voice.

Faramir accepted this and left to find Éowyn. She was indeed in the hall as Aragorn said, Merry was there also, but Faramir was most surprised to see Éowyn working at embroidery.

He approached and bowed briefly. "My lady and my friend. How does this day see you both?"

Éowyn smiled brightly at her betrothed. "I am well, Faramir," she said. Though obviously glad to see him, she did not look particularly well.

Merry also said he was doing fine, but noted also that he could do with a little more pipeweed. Faramir and Merry struck up a conversation on the topic of smoking. Faramir had always found it rather strange that someone should enjoy inhaling smoke and he himself never cared for pipeweed. Merry was quick to extol its virtues though, in such a way that Faramir could not help but be amused.

His attention was quickly turned when Éowyn pricked her finger on the embroidering needle, cursed loudly, and threw down her work in aggravation. "Are you alright?" he asked, reaching for her hand.

"I am fine," she said in a low tone. "This work is not for me. I had a nurse who tried desperately to teach me this, but i can not master it no matter how i try."

"Maybe Lady Arwen can show you," Merry suggested. "Strider said that she sowed his standard that he used when they came to battle at Pelennor with us."

Eowyn thanked Merry for the idea and said she would mention it to the Queen of Gondor, but there was little determination in her voice. Merry decided to head off for a while and find the other three Shirelings.

Faramir asked Éowyn to go again with him to the library, already his favorite place to be in Edoras. She agreed and once there she looked concerned of what he needed solitude to tell her of.

"Have you come to tell me that you have had second thoughts of our proposal?" she asked in fear. "That now you know the truth and know there is a chance these children are not yours, you wish not to be associated with them or me?"

"Eowyn, nothing of the sort! I will support you and them no matter what. I will not fail to give these children the love that every child deserves, no matter who's they are. No, Éowyn, i come not to turn you away, but to ask your forgiveness," he said, kneeling. "I acted less than honorably and less than wisely that night in the healing garden. Moreover, my behavior was abhorrent when you returned to Minas Tirith. Aragorn wishes me to forgive myself and be rid of the shadow of doubt that plagues me, but i can not do that without your forgiveness, Éowyn. I beseech you."

Éowyn looked long at Faramir, seeing how poorly he regarded himself at that point. The young Steward was feeling much as he often did when some error of his was brought to the attention of Denethor.

"Faramir," Éowyn said gently, kneeling beside him, "you must be able to forgive yourself and not fear the judgment of others. Such is a cage that only you can free yourself from. Do you really think that if i had not forgiven you, or if i had ever blamed you, i would have ever taken your hand?"

Faramir rose, bidding Éowyn to as he did. He held her close to him. "Thank you, Éowyn. You truly are an amazing woman."

"You are a good man, Faramir. Do not distress yourself with doubt. Be strong and proud. Your people love you, your father loves you, and i love you, Faramir."

For one heartbeat Faramir was silent before responding softly, "I love you, too, Éowyn."

Quietly they remained in each other's arms for a while. Faramir could not help but contemplate the misgivings in his heart over his last statement, but he resolved that it did not matter what he felt. He would care for Éowyn and the children she now bore without fail.

"Éowyn," Faramir said gently after a time, breaking the hush. "Have you thought of telling to Éomer what you told to me yesterday?"

Éowyn was still before answering. "I believe i must tell him, Faramir. Sooner is likely better than later. It's just that... i am not sure i can say it to him."

"You told me, though. Surely you can tell Éomer, he is your brother. There were never any secrets between my brother and i," Faramir said reassuringly.

Eowyn shook her head. "This is different. I fear to tell him for how he will react with himself. He will take this as his failing to protect to me, even though i have mostly rejected his help. Yet i know he must know. I no longer have the strength to take up my own battles."

"Éowyn, you do not have to face anything alone," he said, taking her hand. "I know that you would handle your problems for yourself, but I am here for you, and i would see justice done upon that man, even if i must take care of it myself. But i do believe it better to bring this matter to the King, for he must deal justice in his way."

Éowyn gripped Faramir's hand seeking security. "Then let us have this done quickly. Please come with me, Faramir."

Faramir agreed and let Éowyn lead him to where she knew Éomer likely to be, hoping that the King of Rohan did not have any callers this day.

---

_I am hoping this chapter offers something of an explain of things that were previous (and intentionally) left vague. I know a lot of people have been bothered by the apparent "indulgence" of Faramir and Eowyn, but think about it - at the time, it definitely looked like the end of the world. Remember that fear drives people to do things they wouldn't ordinarily. This is just forthright humanness, not necessarily fallibility. Who would cast the first stone?_


	38. The King's Chain

Arriving at Éomer's study, Faramir found out that the King did not have any callers to attend to before them, but he also looked like he was buried alive at his desk. When they entered, Éomer looked like he didn't know whether to be angry or pleased with the interruption.

"Éowyn, Faramir, welcome. Please, be seated... i will talk with you as soon as i am through with this," Éomer said, gesticulating toward the scroll he was reading. The further he read, the more grim his expression grew. At the point that Éomer's countenance grew utterly depressing, Éowyn asked him what the trouble was.

"Dunlandings," Éomer said shortly. "Trying to claim more land toward Isengard now Saruman is overthrown, they say. Apparently, those raggle-taggle characters want to establish a kingdom, of sorts. Doubtless they think they can take the land from us so that Aragorn doesn't claim it as part of Arnor." In frustration he crumpled the scroll and threw it out a nearby window.

Faramir watched in near alarm that the request was not even going to be answered with so much as the word "no."

Éomer went from grim and terse to agitated and harried. "I've had five missives today exactly like that! These places are hardly even inhabited, and they want more land? Do you even know how many people have suddenly come forth with a claim to some noble bloodline or other?" Casting about the untidy wreck that was his desk, Éomer said, "I had one letter here from some land i have never even heard of! They never did this to our uncle, did they?" he asked his sister, sounding desperate.

She only shook her head. She looked very concerned, and Éomer relented, leaving his paperwork aside. He sighed, letting his hand search out his throbbing temples to sooth them. "I have to beg your pardon, Lord Faramir. I am sure you do not see this manner of ridiculousness in Gondor."

"No indeed, King Éomer, not every day is in this manner. Most days are much worse." Faramir had to force himself not to laugh over his words. Éomer having this much trouble with less than the quantities of work he handled daily gave Faramir some comfort in the way of self-evaluation by comparison.

Éomer looked to be petrified at that the thought that it could conceivably get worse than what he was dealing with already.

At the doorway there was a voice. "I believe what you need, Éomer, is a good Steward like mine." Aragorn stood genuine but smiling.

"Quite right, Aragorn," the Rohan king said simply.

Faramir could not help the smile that stole across his features. The feeling of being appreciated was very heartening.

"May i steal him from your side, Lady Éowyn?" Aragorn asked, though the importunate look was directed more toward his son.

Faramir's brow furrowed, wondering for what his father needed him so. He looked to Éowyn, silently asking her if she would prefer he remain with her for support.

"Go on, Faramir," she said very quietly. "I will manage this. You are needed by your king, and in your place is my brother."

"You are very sure?" Faramir asked, rising, but feeling the need to make sure.

"I am, Faramir. I can fight my own battles. Meet me again in the morning?" she asked hopefully.

"As you wish, lady," Faramir said before exiting with his father who had been having a side conversation with his comrade regarding the inanity they suffered in their position.

"What is it that is so pressing, father? Your eyes betray your concern," Faramir said, once out of earshot of the brother and sister.

"It's your uncle, Faramir," Aragorn said solemnly.

For one moment Faramir's heart stopped, thinking he had suddenly lost another of his dwindling family.

"I am going to be needing you to arbitrate this meeting," Aragorn said. "He will not enjoy what i have to tell him."

Faramir breathed a sigh of relief.

---

Éowyn was secretly glad that Aragorn had come to call for Faramir. Though she dearly appreciated his presence, she knew that her purpose with her brother needed to remain between siblings alone this time. She thought it was also probably better that Faramir not see the side of Éomer that could be unleashed when he was truly furious. She still had not clearly made up her mind whether she would yet tell her brother that she was with child. It would be best, she thought, to wait to gage his reactions.

Éomer had begun reading another missive while contemplating Aragorn's advice at the back of his mind. Maybe he did need a Steward after all. He had entirely forgotten that his sister was still in the room until she rose and went to the window.

"Éowyn, i am sorry, what did you and Lord Faramir wish to see me about?" Éomer asked, thoughtlessly letting the letter in his hand drop to the floor.

"It was not Lord Faramir who wished to see you, brother. He was only here because i wished to have his compassion. Now i seek yours," Éowyn said, her voice growing softer and shakier. A tremble shot through her at the thought of retelling and reliving her nightmare again.

Éomer stood and caught her shoulders when he saw her shudder, he was confused before by her words, now he was worried by them. "What is it that troubles you, strong sister of mine?"

"Éomer, sit down, please." She beckoned her brother to be near her. "This will be as horrid for you to hear as for me to tell."

Éomer stared at his little sister in utter anxiety. "Tell me, Éowyn, what could be so terrible as to make you tremble, you who have slain the Lord of the Nazgûl?"

"It is Captain Heruláth...." Éowyn's voice nearly faltered as she spoke the name.

"Heruláth?" Éomer questioned. "He is a good captain. His men do not exactly love him, but they do respect him and they have become the strongest éored in the Eorlingas in these weeks since...."

Éomer trailed off as Éowyn's tears broke and she shook fiercely. "Éowyn, why do you fear Heruláth?" her brother asked, voice steeped in suspicion, trying to hold back from flying into fury. Sudden realizations were crashing down upon the king. The way Heruláth gazed at his sister, how he always stood near Éowyn when she was about, these things Éomer has dismissed as the battle-hardened Captain's first flush of love. He knew it would only be ill-fated, since Éowyn was so love-struck with Gondor's Steward, so he thought little of it at the time. Suddenly his sister's strange behavior since their return to Edoras made more sense. Still he waited for her response, now holding her as she shuddered and sobbed in his arms.

Éowyn found she had not the same strength she had when she spoke of this to Faramir. Éomer, through no fault of his own, simply did not have the same calming influence. She found herself unable to go into details with her brother, but forced herself to get the words out. She drew a painful breath and held Éomer tighter. "He... he took me, Éomer," she cried, only barely above a tear-laden whisper.

For a moment Éomer sat still and silent as his wrath reached higher than ever before. He loosed his hold of Éowyn and rose, his eyes narrowed as they would in battle, it was now Éomer who quaked with unleashed ire. Drawing his sword he rushed from the room and out of the palace. In his haste he nearly knocked over three guards, a maid, and Gandalf.

The king had no trouble knowing exactly where to find Heruláth. The sun was setting and the men who were in practice all day were just returning to the weapons store. Éomer saw his target emerge just as he arrived and when the handsome young Captain bowed to his King, Éomer thrust his forearm to the man's head, knocking him to the ground. "Stand up and fight me, you unspeakable bastard!" Éomer commanded enraged.

"My liege!" Heruláth cried. "What is this angry sport you seek to engage me in? I dare not raise my hand against you in treason."

"Treason!" Éomer shouted, eyes flashing wildly. "You have done treason and more! Get you your weapon and fight me, coward."

"It is not more i have done," Heruláth said, drawing his sword with a grim smile, "but more i have undone, and nothing you can undo."

"You have undone yourself. I will not suffer your manner of evil. Die!" Éomer cried driving his sword toward Heruláth, who parried expertly.

---

By this time a small crowd had gathered in astonishment to see their King at blades with their captain. Many thought Éomer had simply grown tired of the duties of the kingdom and decided to get back to bladework. Some who had fought beside Éomer percieved that this was no exercise, that he was genuinely furious enough to fight the captain, but they had no idea what could have caused his anger.

Watching from a window above where Aragorn, Faramir, Imrahil, and Gandalf who had just gathered for their meeting regarding boundaries and conscripts. Imrahil stared in disbelief as the two squared off in a very even match. "Has he gone mad? That man is his best captain!"

"Indeed," said Aragorn steadily. "He is also a treacherous worm, worse than Grima was."

Faramir and Gandalf wisely looked on in silence.

From the window in her brother's study, Éowyn refused to look out, but she listened alone, awaiting the death cry that would give her release.

---

_I've fallen to paraphrasing Shakespeare again. Anyone catch it in this chapter? Tell me the title of the play and who said it and i'll... write you a fic?_


	39. I Shall Be Released

On the greensward in Edoras the fight between Éomer and Heruláth continued. Heruláth was, in truth, the better fighter because he had not been some nearly half the year away from his blade. But Éomer held his advantage in his uncontrolled, passionate rage. Nothing was going to take this fight from the man. It would have been very easy for him to have simply run Heruláth through when he knocked him down, but Éomer knew perfectly well that he needed to fight this out. It was the only way for him to release his out-of-control ire and be satisfied with the result.

The clash of steel on steel brought out more lookers-on in the failing light of day. For each attack there was a perfect parry and counter-attack. For the bystanders, this was becoming very concerning. Even for those who did not know Éomer's temper, it was now clear that not both men would be walking away from this. Aragorn thought his heart would stop when Éomer tripped backward while holding at bay a strike from Heruláth, but his friend rolled quickly out of the way of a heavy blow and he hooked his foe behind the legs, sending him to the ground as well. Éomer rose quickly and regained his self-control, though he lost none of his ferocity. Heruláth was still on his knees, attempting to get back the wind that had been knocked out of him.

Éomer at this point had no concern for a fair duel, this was no different to him than lopping the head off some repulsive, Mordor-bred orc. As the King of Rohan brought his sword downward in a great arch, Heruláth suddenly spun and thrust a hidden dagger into Éomer's side. The cry heard from Éomer was not so much one of anguish but of raging fury. Heruláth's defensive strike, however, had not been enough to distract the King from his mark and his sword found itself embedded deeply in the evil one's ribs. Éomer watched just long enough to spit at the defeated and dying man and to curse Heruláth's final breaths before staggering backward and dropping his sword as he allowed his own pain to flood him. Éomer fell to the ground, sending Aragorn and Gandalf running from the room where they were out of the palace and down to the King.

Pushing through the frantic crowd that now surrounded the King of Rohan, the King of Gondor dropped to his knees at Éomer's side. After a careful check of all vital signs, Aragorn pronounced Éomer alive but hurt and exhausted. He called a couple of men to bear him back to his chamber as quickly, and gently, as possible. Moving to Gandalf, who was knelt over the body of Heruláth. The Wizard simply shook his head, but Aragorn instinctively, and vainly, checked for breathing and pulse anyway. Seeing that there was nothing he could do to save the villain, even if saving was not deserved, Aragorn rushed back to Éomer.

---

When Éowyn heard the cry of outrage she did not immediately recognize it as her brother's and so she chanced a look out the window. Seeing Heruláth laying with Éomer's sword sheathed in his body, a wave of relief washed halfway over her when Éomer suddenly fell to the ground too. Éowyn's strength gave out and she dropped to her knees beside the window, tears claiming her.

When Aragorn had Éomer brought back into Meduseld, Faramir realized that Éowyn must have still been in the study. He hurried back along the corridor and knocked urgently upon the door. There was no response, but he could hear weeping within. He tried the handle, but found it locked.

"Éowyn? Please let me in." Faramir's voice was gentle, but imploring. Faramir knew he father would not act with such speed if Éomer was beyond his help, but he knew that Éowyn would not and would think her brother killed too. Faramir still received no reply but pain-filled sobs.

Just then Mithrandir's hand caught Faramir's shoulder as he was about to go and leave her alone as she apparently wished to be. "Lady Éowyn," Gandalf called. "Your brother wishes to speak with you. If you prefer to remain here, though, i will bear to him your -"

The door opened slowly and Éowyn stepped out. "He lives?" she asked in a whisper. Less than a moment later she was all but flying down the hallway to her brother's chamber.

She rushed into the room, drawing a rather annoyed stare from Aragorn who was trying to keep the place as peaceful as possible for the injured king. He did not hinder her, though, as she knelt beside her brother's bed. He was mostly finished with what he could do at any rate,

She remembered clearly the scent of athelas that filled the room and at once she felt more calm than she had in a long time. She took Éomer's hand in hers and he slowly opened his eyes.

Looking at her tearful smile, the king grasped his sister's hand. "It is over, Éowyn. Gandalf tells me i defeated him once and for all."

She nodded, moving to sit beside him. She knew his wound prevented her from embracing him and so she held his hand all the tighter. "Thank you, big brother," she said softly. She only used that title for him when her speaking was very heartfelt. "Always have you looked after me, Éomer, even when i resisted your guardianship."

"I should have done better, Éowyn," Éomer said in a strained voice. "I apologize to you. Had i been more attentive i would have seen that something was so very wrong."

"No you would not have," she insisted, impertinent as always. "I did everything to hide it from you. I wanted to fight for myself."

"You have always fought for yourself, little sister," Rohan's king said, almost teasingly. "You have never failed to own your troubles. That is an admirable quality, but you must learn to accept the help of others."

"I have learned that, Éomer," she said, just as Faramir and Gandalf came to the door.

The two newcomers remained quiet in the doorway as Aragorn assured Éowyn that her brother would be fine as long as he remained abed for a couple of days and kept to his study more than the stable for several weeks. Éomer looked very unhappy with that prognosis but Aragorn insisted that he was extremely lucky that his wound was not fatal and that the time requirement was precautionary so that the tissues and muscles had a fair chance to heal.

That night Éomer and Éowyn spent talking of many things from their childhoods to their futures. Éowyn told him that she now bore a child, or as Lady Galadhriel prophesized, two children. Fortunately, the combination of the pain from his wound and the calming influence of the athelas steam that still lingered kept from him flying back into a state of fury. When he asked her if this had been the result of the attack, she answered truthfully that she did not know. He questioned her meaning and she very delicately explained that she and her betrothed had been together one night when all hope for the future seemed lost. Éomer just shook his head and asked Éowyn to fetch him an ale.

---

Meeting again in Aragorn's chambers were Gondor's king, his son, Gandalf, and Imrahil. Maps were spread over every conceivable surface along with numerous candles, now that they had lost what daylight there was.

Gandalf and Faramir were in attendance in advisory and arbitrary capacity only. The meeting mostly concerned Aragorn and Imrahil, as the King felt it necessary to re-delineate the areas that Dol Amroth's soldiers kept watch over. It was Aragorn's hope that he could convince Imrahil to station a large fraction in Umbar, but he predicted correctly that the Prince would be less than pleased with that prospect.

The debate carried on long into the night. Though all involved had grown greatly drowsy, it seemed that for some sleepiness had the effect of making one much more stubborn.

---

_Linda: MacBeth? Not quite, but not too far from the mark. _

_Any one else have any guesses? Hint: It was a very good, if not very popular, film._


	40. Bottled Thoughts

Over the next two days the tone of life in Edoras was much quieter than usual. Turn of events had been strange, to say the least, and most people had a lot to think over. The Elven guests of Rohan picked up on the pensive moods around them, but kept from becoming involved. In fact, they were rather glad for the quiet, even if there were no fine forests nearby that one could relax properly in, at least it wasn't as clamorous as usual in the mortal city. As for Legolas, he could scarcely say the same as most of his kin. With each passing day, Gimli talked ever the more of the wonder of the Glittering Caves of Helm's Deep. However, revenge was exacted well enough when Legolas began delving into thousands of years worth of tales and histories of the Ents.

It was decided that despite recent actions, the departure from Rohan would carry on as planned. Since Aragorn deemed Éomer would be well enough if he kept himself rested for a while, and since Gandalf was very adamant that Isengard needed to be looked in on, the small group of what was once the Fellowship of the Ring set out from Edoras.

Before their departure, Lady Lothiriel of Dol Amroth, daughter of Imrahil and cousin of Faramir, asked Aragorn if she might assist some way in caring for the King of Rohan. Aragorn had already laid into Faramir's hands a good bit of athelas that would probably have gone dry before most of it could be used; but in the maid's eyes he recognized something that he was rather sure he caught at the feast as well.

Lothiriel could hardly keep her eyes from Éomer, and every so often Éomer had found himself looking her direction in a degree of wonderment at the fair lady. Aragorn charged Lothiriel with seeing to it that Éomer and Éowyn both got the rest they needed. If he knew anything about those two, it would take much more than just Faramir, Imrahil, and his own wife to keep them at respite.

And so departed the last riding of the Fellowship of the Ring, Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and four worldly wise Hobbits, Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee, Meriadoc Brandybuck, and Peregrin Took. Also on the ride were the Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadhriel of Lorien and their people (for whom the months long outing had been the most extensive they'd had in many a moon), and Lord Elrond Peredhil and his twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir (the latter of whom some inhabitants of Edoras were decidedly not sorry to see go). All together these rode to Helm's Deep and dwelt there for several days before going on to Isengard and then their separate ways, some never to meet more.

It had been less than two months since Faramir rode from Minas Tirith, leaving Elrond's two chief representatives to care for his city and kingdom. Erestor no longer slept at night. Glorfindel had already gone through young Estel's secret store of Dorwinion and was frantically appealing to Thranduil, via thrush, for more. It was agreed between the two Elves (the first thing they had agreed upon in ages, literally), that Glorfindel should handle everyday affairs with the people and delegate them as necessary, while Erestor dealt with foreign affairs and the missives that arrived several times daily.

In their time there had a contingent of dwarves arrived from Erebor, eagerly ready to get to work on setting the stonework of Minas Tirith to right. Erestor had not expected this invasion for some weeks yet, at a time when Aragorn would have been returned to deal with it, and the raven-haired advisor had since gone into seclusion, rarely even looking out windows unless it was night. Glorfindel, on the other hand, had no trouble at all with them, for his part.

The Dwarves, though, were rather distrustful that there was suddenly an Elf where they had expected a King of Men telling them what needed to be done. In short, they were on strike until Aragorn returned and were very unhappy that they had come early to get more work done before the cold season and all for naught. Though they did greatly enjoy strolling all over the city inspecting the existing stonework, of which there was much.

However, there is only so much stonework that even a Dwarf can take. After weeks of waiting for Aragorn's return, the Dwarves of Erebor grew restless without work to be done, and with so much yet to be done. They began complaining to Glorfindel frequently, en masse. By the end of two days worth of their moaning, Glorfindel had gone the way of Erestor and took to hiding out in Faramir's study.

The first time the Balrog-slayer walked into the Steward's office to see Erestor steadily at work on the piles of papers that hemmed him in, he could not suppress his laughter. Never before had the raven-haired perfectionist been seen in such disarray, and clearly Erestor did not like that fact being so noted. Glorfindel's laughter earned him a very Elrond-like stare.

"Oh, feeling a little perturbed, are you?" Glorfindel asked irritatingly. "At least you have not a pack a Naugrim turning up every few hours with the same complaint."

"If they did, _mellon-nín,_" Erestor said in a frighteningly calm tone, "I would know how to make their complaining cease, permanently."

This time Glorfindel's laugh was almost cheerlessly sarcastic, though he really did enjoy getting such a reaction out of his colleague. "I am sure you would... the Valar know you could bore the most hard-of-hearing Dwarf directly to Mandos."

Erestor's eyes went stone cold and he stood tall, several papers fluttering to the floor. The advisor's jaw was so set that his words came across in a low, mordant tone. "A Dwarf, even the most insufferable, being sent to Mandos by my boredom-inducing speech, would remain there, instead of driving Lord Námo so annoyed that he _sent back _the pestilence."

Glorfindel became indignant at that remark and stepped closer to that desk that Erestor no longer appeared to be hiding behind but defending. "At least _i _actually _did something_ heroic enough to wind up in the Halls of Mandos! Unless you cut your finger on a poisoned parchment, you will be remembered by these mortals in the ages to come as 'Erestor: Chief Advisor to Lord Elrond,' whilst i have the honor of 'Glorfindel: Warrior of Gondolin, Defender of the People, Selfless Slayer of Balrogs, Servant of the Vala Lord Námo....' Well, i think you understand. One day these mortal children shall wonder that one Elf could really have ever been so great and some will be convinced that there must have been two Elves named Glorfindel. I shall be remembered as -"

Glorfindel's egocentric rant was cut off by Erestor's sudden and unexpected charge. The Balrog-slayer drew his sword only just in time to block Erestor's blow.

_Yeah, you have to love those two. _

_Guesses so far are MacBeth and Richard II... neither is correct though. This is indeed a rare one i suppose, but one of my absolute favorites by Billy Wigglestick._


	41. Sweet Return?

A couple days after departing most of his dearest friends, Aragorn returned to Edoras to his wife and his son. After a brief rest Aragorn checked in on Éomer, who was again burying himself in his study. The man of Gondor again advised the man of Rohan to get himself a good Steward. This time he added that he should look into finding a wife as well. Aragorn noticed the way Éomer attempted to pretend that he had not heard that as he was too involved in concentrating on his work. Aragorn grinned of satisfaction at the tinge of pink that crept across the weathered features of the Horselord.

Talk of wives and Stewards sent Aragorn in the direction of his own, gratefully in time for a meal as well. Aragorn was coming to the decision that he'd had enough time in Rohan and wanted to get back home. Mentioning it to the two most important people in his life, he was rather surprised that they would both stay in Edoras a while longer. He had been rather sure Faramir would stay for now, but that he would need to get back to Minas Tirith before the end of autumn, for a while at least. Arwen surprised him, though, by saying that she, too, would remain with Éowyn for a while yet.

Her decision made Aragorn a little less eager to be off, but she insisted that he get back to his kingdom before her father's representatives ended up in some sort of disaster. Aragorn reluctantly agreed that she was completely right, and he and Faramir discussed plans for travel.

They decided that in two months time Faramir would return to Minas Tirith and at that time Aragorn would depart and head back to Edoras for a month. After that he would return to Minas Tirith with Arwen, leaving Faramir free to return to Edoras again.

The whole thing rather confused both men, but Faramir figured that as long as he left Edoras after two months, the rest would play itself out properly. Now all he had to do was explain it to Éowyn. He was surprised that she thought it a good idea, but he considered that could have been just because it was too confusing to be argued with.

The one small fact that had been overlooked, however, was their wedding celebration, which she reminded him of. Faramir considered for a moment. There were a good many fewer people to be involved and Faramir suggested that they just hold the celebration in Meduseld. Faramir wished the festivity might have taken place before so many of his friends departed, but circumstances simply did not allow it. They both agreed that the matter could be taken care of in a week's time, before Aragorn left for Minas Tirith, and so did Faramir, Steward of Gondor, Prince of Ithilien, become husband to Lady Éowyn of Rohan. It was Aragorn's word to them both that he would host a great celebration for them when they both returned to his city.

The wedding feast went on much as the celebration of the Théoden's life had, though there were fewer revelers. Everyone seemed to be very cheerful, if they did not wonder why this celebration had come so quickly. Faramir, who was never a great lover of crowds and parties and formal occasions was saved by his father, Éomer, and men of the Rohirrim, while Éowyn who thought even worse of such events was kept quite well enough distracted by the Queen of Gondor and Lady Lothiriel (who kept mentioning the King of Rohan).

By night's end Faramir found himself outdoors in search of freer air, just as he had after the previous party. This time he had no Elven company to distract him from his thoughts or to advise him to get some sleep. For a long while Faramir sat thinking of his changes of fortune and his new martial status. He thought of how Boromir used to tease him mercilessly about finding a woman. He thought how he wished these coming little ones would have been able to know their uncle, even if he was only half their uncle, or even if they weren't related at all. Faramir guessed that only time would tell, but he knew so little of these matters as it was. He thought much of his brother that night, wishing so intently that they could have shared that time as only brothers can. Before very long, Faramir was sound asleep in the grass just outside the Golden Hall.

ooo

Morning rose gently, the skies filled with soft color, as Aragorn made ready to return to Minas Tirith. He found that he was more eager for this journey home than he realized before. A week out on his own would do him good, and returning to his people, his city, his study, and his bed was going to be very welcome.

Aragorn enjoyed breakfast with his dear Arwen and Faramir before leaving, though he had not seen his son's new wife, and he wondered why Faramir was looking much like he had spent the night outdoors. Aragorn departed before the sun rose too high and he rode on a while into the night until he reached Firien Wood.

It had taken a lot of convincing before Éomer (and several others) would let him ride home unescorted, but now that night had fallen and he was on his own in the woods, Aragorn thought exactly how worth it it was to be out there alone again. Though he would have enjoyed sharing the trip with Faramir as they had on their brief escape from the city, the solitude of his travel tended to be one of his favorite life experiences.

The journey seemed to go far too quickly for the former ranger. Just as he was starting to really enjoy outdoor living again, he was approaching Druadan. He decided to take the slow route around the woods, though that only bought him another half day's ride. Riding up the city gates, Aragorn decided that he wasn't really in the mood to hear trumpets calling out his arrival, and so he drew up his hood. The memory of spending that hour in Minas Tirith's dungeon came back to him, so he was on his guard like never before.

He was rather surprised to find a horde of Dwarves guarding his gate but figured it made no difference to him as they let him pass without a word. Inside the city, it began to perturb him that he was able to just ride in without any questions being asked. By the time he reached the 7th level he was certain that the guard needed to be upped, and he was also certain that the dungeons needed to be overhauled for an expanded wine cellar. He was, however, very surprised that the city was not in complete insurrection.

Entering the Citadel one of his guards moved to stop him but suddenly recognized the King and knelt before him. Aragorn laughed to himself that he was growing rather used to all the pomp and circumstance that came with his position. He was beginning to make his way to his own study to see what terrible mountain of work awaited him when he heard distinctly Elven shouting coming from Faramir's study.

Aragorn walked in rather cautiously to find the dark-haired and fair-haired Elf with swords literally at each other's throats.

ooo

_So it seems dashes are being mysteriously devoured by the dash-devouring ungol in the montior... indeed. "o" now takes the place of dash until this foul thing is driven out._

_No further guesses as the to Shakespeare paraphrase a few chapters back? _

_To AM: As for an idea for a Glor-Ere fic... i think i could definitely do that. I'm rather sure (already) that there will be a sequel, or at least an epilogue, to this story. There will indeed be some fascinating things to come, but the Glor-Ere story would be separate. Thanks for noting, hope you continue to enjoy!_

_The same goes for all of my lovely readers!_


	42. Why Can't We Overcome this Wall?

The King stared at the sight before him as Glorfindel began to disengage slowly. Erestor turned slightly ashen when he realized that Estel was looking at him as though he was no longer the same efficient, organized, competent Elf he once was. Suddenly, a thought flashed across Erestor's mind... he was behaving like Glorfindel. At that he dropped the sword from his hand as if it burnt him.

Aragorn had grown up watching Glorfindel go blade to blade with many other Elves, mostly as exercise or friendly competition. A few times he and Elrond had even contested each other. It was Aragorn's personal opinion that Glor' had the best sword handling abilities in all Imladris, if not in the entire north kingdom. The Man had learned everything he knew about swords from this Elf.

Yet, here it was before his own eyes, Glorfindel in imminent danger of being beaten by, all of people, Erestor. Though Aragorn had learned much from Erestor and had almost as much respect for him as he had for his foster-father, never did he think that this Elf had any real weapons ability to speak of. In his mind, Erestor was simply not a warrior by any measure, though he was probably the best associate to be found in the Elven realms.

Aragorn, for once in his life, was rendered utterly speechless. He wanted to say something about not wishing to have another kinslaying on his hands, but he figured that wouldn't go over too well at the moment. Erestor was the first to regain composure, nodding to the Man and saying simply, "Welcome home, Estel," as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

Aragorn arched a brow, nodded in return, and began to look around at the astonishing mess the Steward's study was in. He cringed when he thought of what his own would look like.

"You look road-weary, _mellon_," Glorfindel said, attempting his own recovery. "If you had but sent word, i would have _gladly_ ridden out to meet you."

Aragorn looked a little confused. "Maybe i am weary.... I did send word, though, Glor'. A week before i left, in fact." His eyes widened in fear. "Don't tell me the lad never made it this far!"

"He made it, Estel," Erestor said, sounding very tired. "The last week i have been _trying_," said with a strong look Glorfindel's direction, "to get this place in order for you."

Glorfindel returned Erestor's stare in full and then some, his fingers growing a little tighter around the hilt again. "Why, then, _mellon_," he said, voice laden with sarcasm, "did you not _tell me _of Estel's impending return?" The Balrog-slayer spoke through clenched teeth as through fitting a losing battle with his temper.

Erestor laughed sardonically, his voice raising a pitch or two. "Right, so you could ride off to meet him and leave me stuck with those Naugrim? Not in ten thousand years!"

Glorfindel swiftly made a move toward Erestor but Aragorn judiciously blocked him. "I really had thought that at some time in the last several thousand years the two of you might have worked through your differences."

"I have tried!" Glorfindel all but shouted.

"_You_ have tried?" Erestor countered.

For a few moments they simply glared at each other before pointing accusing fingers. "That Elf is the most intolerable being i have ever encountered!" they said in perfect synchrony, momentarily stunning each other. The effect didn't last long and even Aragorn couldn't keep them separated. They were mere inches apart, shouting things at each other that even the King of Gondor did not understand.

Aragorn quietly picked up the two swords, Glorfindel having dropped his in shock that Erestor would dare use the same words he had, at the same time, no less. He left the study entirely unnoticed, handing the weapons to the nearest guard and instructing him to not let any Elf touch them unless they were _leaving_ the city. He, himself, decided to head to the kitchen. A nice meal and a tall glass of wine would suit him very well.

ooo

The day Aragorn departed from Edoras was not a happy one on several different fronts. Éomer had reopened his wound trying to calm one of the horses who apparently had not gotten work that he was King now. Éowyn was feeling particularly unwell with morning sickness, and when Faramir had gone to offer her athelas she refused it and they ended up in a terrible argument over where he had been all night. When Faramir explained that he had only gone outdoors toward the end of the party for some fresh air and had begun to think about his brother, Éowyn accused him of living in the past.

That struck a serious nerve with him that no one had ever provoked before, not even Denethor. Drawing himself up and away from Éowyn his gaze hardened. "Do not dare to blame me of that," he said in a low tone.

Éowyn became indignant that he should even begin to tell her what to do. "Do not dare to speak to me that way!" she shouted back at him.

Faramir was severely tempted to tell her something along the line of 'if you would keep your insensitive comments to yourself...,' but he thought rather better of it and said nothing. Suddenly he hated himself for not speaking his mind. He knew it would actually be healthier for them to argue it out, but he was returning to old habits of going quiet in the face of criticism.

She took his silence for guilt and, since she really did not believe that he had spent the entire night outside just thinking of his dead brother, she began hotly questioning him. "If you wanted to be with another, more delicate lady you should have told me that a long time ago," she cried.

"Those were never my words, nor my feelings. If you do not have trust in me _you_ should have me _that_ a long time ago!" Faramir said, anger forcing him out of his quiet.

"Maybe not your words or feelings, but what about your actions? Even i have heard the tales of your brother's actions, and if what you tell me is true, your mother's actions as well. I suppose it must be in your blood," she spat, not realizing how terribly hurtful her words were.

Suddenly rage drained out of the Steward, replaced by shock. No one had even mentioned his mother in a long time, and certainly not so disrespectfully. Faramir shuddered in deep sadness. He tried to find words, but none came to his mind or heart, there was only the feeling of having made an awful mistake. The only thing he muttered as he left the room was, "Goodbye, Éowyn."


	43. Rise Up When Darkness Falls

Faramir took little delay in heading directly to the stables. He brushed passed Éomer as though he didn't exist and even Arwen did not act quickly enough to slow him. Concerned, the Elven queen followed the young man and caught up with him just as he was riding out.

"Faramir," she said, gently placing a graceful hand on his horse's neck, "why do you leave in such haste? To where are you riding?"

"My Lady," Faramir said with a slight bow, "i am returning home." The sadness in his eyes was pitiable. It was a look that he so often had worn that it seemed to fit him like no other.

"Why are you riding to Gondor, was it not agreed upon that you should leave in two months time?" Arwen asked, though she did not have difficulty guessing any of the answers.

"I am leaving because i am of no use here," Faramir said, not entirely lying to her. He had been feeling quiet useless, whereas at least back in Minas Tirith he had a job to do and felt satisfied at the end of the day.

"Is that the only motivation, Faramir?" she asked more coaxingly than anything. It would help him, she knew, to simply unburden his heart a little.

Faramir sighed, letting go of the reigns though he remained mounted. "My Lady, i see no reason to stay where i am obviously not needed nor wanted nor even trusted. I could and would bear up with Éowyn falsely accusing me, the Valar know i have passed that test before in my life. But i shall not accept anyone ever speaking of my dead brother and mother discourteously. It is not only that, it started the first time i met her and has only grown worse. She used to tolerate the courtesies i was raised to show a lady, but now if i hold a door for her or pull out a chair, even if i stand when she enters, i am on the receiving end of a disapproving glare. I have made for her many sacrifices in my own life, because it was my duty to do so and i shall not be termed derelict. It seems, though, that my sacrifices are meaningless to her. I absolutely do not know what else to do, but clearly i am only making things worse for her by staying. I am sure father will want to see you again very soon, he may leave as soon as i arrive at home. Here," he said, handing her a pouch from his belt, "i am sure you can use this better than i can."

"No!" Arwen nearly cried. "You must keep it, Faramir, not i," she said much softer.

"Very well, my Lady. Farewell." Faramir ended his statement quickly and rode off without anything more then the small pack he had arrived carrying.

Arwen saw that it would not be beneficial to try to convince Faramir to stay, for that would only embitter the Steward. She knew that for 36 years he had endured scorn without growing very disillusioned, but she wondered just how much one mortal Man could put up with. Instead she went quickly to find Faramir's uncle, Imrahil.

Finding Imrahil and Lothiriel both with Éomer, trying to tend to his re-injured wounds without the benefit of athelas, she decided to put off talking to Dol Amroth's contingent. What she needed to tell the Prince would be very poorly received by the King of Rohan. In the meanwhile, she supposed it might be prudent to pay a visit to Éowyn. The Queen of Gondor found the new bride in a exceedingly hysterical state.

ooo

Faramir rode hard all day but he did not over-exert himself or his horse and he made camp each night. He wondered if at some point he would catch up with Aragorn. He knew well enough that he wouldn't but he was interested in thinking about anything in Middle-earth other than the comments of his wife. He even settled for pondering the disturbing irony of the wretched Gollum, according to what Frodo had told him. At least Gollum never insulted two of the only people in all of Arda who actually cared for him.

Faramir found that he did, in fact, have much to mull over. Everything from the power of the Ring to the peace of the Shire was fair game for his thoughtful mind. Halfway along his journey, Faramir seriously contemplated taking a turn northward to follow Mithrandir and the Hobbits to Rivendell and the Shire beyond. However, he stayed true to his course, knowing that he did not need to wander off through unknown lands just now. What he needed was his home and his office.

Much as Aragorn had, Faramir found that the journey went quickly, though Faramir was more grateful of this than his father had been. Faramir slept his last night out at the eastern edge of the Grey Wood before heading to Minas Tirith was dawn. Faramir rose just before the rising sun and his eyes wandered to the stars that were still in the sky. It was with much reassurance that Faramir saw the Hunter returning to the eastern skies that morning.

Feeling heartened, Faramir rode into the city before the sky had even lost it's soft hues. The city was only just beginning to come to life and he went mostly unnoticed. He sent his horse off to the stable and headed to the Citadel. The guard, who was surprised to see him back so soon, bowed deeply. Faramir couldn't help but laugh to himself, thinking how good it felt to be home again.

Nor could he help noting the paradox that it was that he was rather hoping that the man he called father would be up and in his study, though the Steward felt no sense of urgency and wouldn't mind waiting for him.

For a while Faramir sat at the east window of his father's study. The Hunter's stars still shone very faintly and Faramir smiled. Boromir was never one to be terribly interested in the forms in the stars as Faramir was, but after their mother's death Boromir knew he needed to find a way to connect better with his little brother, who had gone from a happy child to terribly sullen so suddenly.

Boromir knew that Faramir already loved learning about anything he could and he noticed one winter night his little brother looked at the stars the same way their mother often did. A tale that Finduilas had often recounted to her first son came to mind, so Boromir told Faramir of the Hunter who traversed the winter skies and watched over the lands of Men.

It had not been until years later that Faramir had come to put the old tale, which he and Boromir shared even as they grew into men, with the tales of Tauron, the Vala Oromë. As the Hunter faded from Faramir's sight so slowly that he knew the stars did not leave with the day but merely were cloaked in the sun's light, Faramir thought of Boromir yet again. He knew that his beloved brother was not gone from his life, but merely cloaked until they were reunited one day. He knew the same was true of his gentle mother.

Faramir's thoughts were broken by the sound of whining hinge on the door of the King's study. It was then that he realized he had not yet even removed his cloak, thus explaining Aragorn's drawn sword. Throwing off the worn garment, his saw his father breath a deep sigh of relief, then his eyes narrowed in confusion.

"_Ion-nín_?" Aragorn asked, almost uncertain that he was looking at his own son.

"_Adar_." Faramir smiled, almost guiltily.

Aragorn sat down. He had very nearly seen this coming, and he handed Faramir the cup of tea he was about to imbibe, his son looking like he was more in need of it. Neither said anything for a while, both still rather in the waking stages, but Aragorn was first to break the silence. "It must have been a rather terrible fight," he said, Faramir's emotionless expression providing all the information he needed. "Don't feel too discouraged. I understand these things happen all the time. Arwen has told me some interesting stories about Galadhriel and Celeborn's arguments, unfortunately i am sworn to secrecy until the Lady of Lorien departs from Middle-earth. Beyond that, look at Glor' and Erestor, they have known each other for centuries and they can't stand one another. But they do work together for the same cause when need be. Incidentally... i would refrain from visiting your study just yet."

Faramir had been feeling a ray of hope until his father uttered that last sentence. He shook his head, deciding that perhaps it was for the best. He needed rest more than work as it was. Letting himself relax Faramir stared at the ceiling. He was pretty sure Aragorn had no idea how he had been cut by Éowyn's comment, but he wondered at himself as well. Why, he asked himself, had he reacted so immediately and so significantly as to leave her land because of a few words? He did not like the answers that met him: self-doubt... bitterness... ego.... Yes, these things might have all been factors, but none of these things necessarily would have driven him so away from what he believed to be his duty. Faramir feared the one last answer that unkindly mocked his thoughts.

ooo

_Surprisingly... it has not been guessed, my second Shakespearean paraphrase of the story, way back in Chapter some or other, The King's Chain, i think. It was a paraphrase of a line from the play Titus Andronicus:_

_Demetrius: Villain, what hast thou done?_

_Aaron: That which thou canst not undo._

_Chiron: Thou hast undone our mother!_

_Aaron: Villain, i have done thy mother!_


	44. Nightmare in Waves of Bliss

Most of the day Faramir spent in his chambers. He tried reading for a while to take his mind off things, but he could hardly concentrate on the words in front of him. He tried just having a walk in the healing garden, but there were too many memories there. All he could think of was the disaster that his life seemed to be in. The sound of laughter drifted up to his ears from the lower levels of the city and a thought came to Faramir. What he needed was a drink.

Heading down to the tavern on the fourth level, The Merry Widow, Faramir thought of how many times he and Boromir had gone there when Denethor was taking to strange and unpleasant moods. Often times Boromir had found his little brother fuming or feeling sorry for himself after an argument and had persuaded him to get out for a while and share a drink. It never failed that both left the place in much higher spirits than when they walked in. At this moment, Faramir thought that it was very likely the drink that gave him the lightened mood, and such was what he was after.

Faramir entered the tavern to many rousing shouts, much as it had been at Aragorn's wedding feast. Already he was smiling again. Then the thought struck him that the one person's shout he still lacked was his brother's. The whole situation and the empty feeling in his heart was growing so irritating to him.

Faramir sighed and called for an ale. Several good friends of his from the Ithilien Rangers made their way over to him and they spoke for a good while about the old company and the new company, their old Captain and their new Captain. They seemed very pleased with the man Faramir had chosen to replace his position, but they still missed something that only Faramir could offer the soldiers: sincere compassion. Most of them were sure that quite possibly no one could have had Faramir's command of balancing the needs of the men at his charge with the needs of the people they protected. Faramir felt rather comforted by their vote of confidence and they talked of what it was like to be Steward. The men were glad that he finally held an office he truly enjoyed.

After several more drinks with his friends the Steward was feeling ready to make his way home for the night and feeling much better again, emotionally if not physically. Through a haze Faramir thought that maybe it wasn't just Boromir's presence that made him feel much improved after all the times they came here, maybe it really was the ale. Rising shakily after biding goodnight to his companions, Faramir headed for the door, or so he thought. It took two of his friends to set him on the right track and both were too concerned to let him wander the streets alone. Approaching the Citadel the guard let them pass when he saw the Steward's condition.

"Where do we take him?" Ithilien's new second-in-command, Valen, asked, trying to support Faramir's weight.

Angmir just shrugged. "I've never even been in here. I guess we should take him to his chambers... wherever they are." There were no guards nearby to be asked and since Faramir had passed out somewhere around the fifth level he was no help.

Valen was very worried for his friend and Steward's condition. He had never seen Faramir so inebriated. "Maybe we should take him down to the healers instead," he suggested in concern.

Just then Aragorn exited his study for the night. Seeing two Rangers with someone draped over one man's shoulder, he had little difficulty guessing which of the three needed the healers they referred to.

"Who is your friend in need of a healer?" Aragorn asked approaching them.

Angmir knelt before Aragorn, only recognizing him when he stepped forward into the light of a nearby torch. Valen tried to do the same, but it was rather impossible.

Aragorn shuddered when he thought he recognized Faramir's unruly hair and Angmir, rising, confirmed that Valen's burden was indeed the Steward. Aragorn sighed, fear shooting through him. "Follow me. What happened to him?" Aragorn asked, dreading the answer as only a father can.

"The Merry Widow, my leige," Angmir said with a smile. He had children of his own and read Aragorn's concern. Though he did not know that the two had a blood connection, he did know that they looked upon each other with more than just respect. Angmir thought if Faramir had to lose his father in such a terrifying manner, at least Aragorn could step into that role for the young man.

ooo

Arwen had a very difficult time calming Éowyn enough to speak and wondered if she shouldn't have taken a little of the Athelas that Faramir offered. Though she somehow knew he would be in need of it. Arwen learned exactly what had transpired to make Faramir leave in such haste.

Arwen had meant to come and speak to Éowyn simply enough to calm her and assure he that her husband would return soon, that all he needed was a retreat from the stresses in his life. When Arwen told Éowyn that Faramir had departed Edoras and was returning to Gondor, Éowyn cried out in either rage, frustration, fear, or sadness, it was not at all clear which.

Before the Elven lady knew what was happening Éowyn was leaving Meduseld and going toward the stable. To Arwen's eyes, Éowyn looked to be three to five months along and in no condition to ride after Faramir. Nor did Faramir need someone going after him. Arwen doubted that she had the ability to contest the will of a shield-maiden, but since she could not go to Éomer because of his injury, she went after Éowyn just as she had Faramir that same morning, hoping she would have more luck this time.

It took time and a lot of words, more to the horse than to Éowyn, but Arwen managed to find the right words to delay her when she mentioned that she was already beginning to show her condition and that riding may be harmful. This alone stopped Éowyn and brought her to retreat back to the palace, though she was no less aggrieved of her husband's sudden departure.

In her thoughts, Éowyn swore to herself that if her husband did not return before the week was out she would be going after him, damn the consequences. She would walk if it was too dangerous to her children for her to ride.

ooo

_Just a warning about the upcoming chapters, Faramir's behavior is about to go strange again. There may be some things not understood for those who haven't real the Silmarillion._


	45. Looking Outside for a Guarantee

Faramir woke the morning after spending the evening in the tavern feeling strange to say the least. He had fully expected a terrible hangover, but there was none. Only with extraordinary caution did he lift his head, fearing to trigger a headache, but in truth, he felt fine. Encouraged by this surprise, Faramir readied himself for the day ahead with renewed enthusiasm. He had been right, he thought to himself, and there really was something in the ale in Minas Tirith that could cheer a man.

He thought that now he was back at home he should spend more time with his friends again. Faramir was so unlike Boromir when it came to socializing. Faramir did not call many people friends but those he did he was loyal to. After the war, Valen and Angmir was two of the only people left in the city who he considered friends.

Heading to his study, Faramir remembered Aragorn words and wondered exactly why he has advised his son to refrain from that room. How bad could it be? After all, Lord Elrond's trusted counselors had matters well in hand, surely.

Entering, Faramir stood stock still for a moment, bewildered. His study was looking in better shape than he had ever seen it, even since the years when it was kept by Denethor's chief counsel. From an adjoining room came Erestor, who Faramir could not praise enough for his care of the office.

Erestor shook his head. "Little do i envy you, young Faramir. This is all yours again, if ever i see this room again, it will be much too soon." The dark-haired Elf exited unceremoniously, though Faramir hardly noticed. Forgetting entirely about being rather hungry, Faramir sat down and began to look over the last few weeks worth of work. For the next two weeks, Faramir would again have the luxury of feeling in his truest element.

ooo

After the first week passed since Faramir and Éowyn's wedding feast, she had made up her mind. Slipping out in the night and moving quickly the White Lady of Rohan began her journey toward Minas Tirith. Even she no longer knew if she felt anger or pity toward Faramir, but she knew that she was not going to let the matter be suspended mid-air while she lay around "resting" and waiting to give birth.

Having heard sounds in the night outside her window, Arwen looked to see a small framed soldier of the Rohirrim clinging to the shadows in escaping. Her Elf-eyes were not to be deceived, and shaking her head she wondered why mortals were so stubborn and never listened to the advice of the Eldar. Perhaps that was why Elves gave up giving advice, it was never heeded anyway.

Arwen knew that there was only one thing that could be done about the matter if peace would be kept between kingdoms. Going to Éomer, who was still up in his study trying to sort out missives of every nature, she explained to him in her calm and gentle Elven way the situation at hand. She spoke in such a manner that even Éomer could not lose his temper, at least not immediately. Arwen told Éomer that he had nothing to fear for his sister or his niece and nephew as she would catch up with Éowyn and travel with her to Minas Tirith. While she had Éomer calm and willing to listen she asked that he impart the information to Imrahil. She also suggested he take some rest and in the morning set about finding himself a Steward. She knew but the next night he would come to his "senses" and rush off after them.

Riding after Éowyn, the Elf queen had little difficulty catching up with her by sun up. She found her not asleep but presumably hiding under a tree, weeping. When Arwen set her hand upon Éowyn's shoulder she started and drew back.

Éowyn stared angrily at Arwen. "If you have come to convince me again to go back home where i belong -"

"I have come to help you Éowyn," Arwen cut in firmly but gently. "You can not make this journey alone. For you to walk from Edoras to Minas Tirith is nothing short of folly."

"Folly? I have slain a Ringwraith!" she cried. "If i had the strength to fight in battle to defend your kingdom i am sure i have the strength to walk there!"

Arwen sighed. So mortal women really were more stubborn than mortal men. She feared that slaying a Wraith was going to become like Glorfindel's favorite defense of slaying a Balrog. "Éowyn, you were not with child when you went to battle. Please, let me travel with you, and take my palfrey."

"I thought you said it was dangerous for me to ride," Éowyn said, sounding like she was relenting.

"It is less dangerous than walking out here alone. Just because Sauron is defeated does not mean there is no more evil in Middle-earth." Arwen handed Éowyn the reigns. "My palfrey is light of step and you should be comfortable. We shall walk but quickly."

Almost against her will Éowyn nodded in acceptance. She rose and attempted to climb into the saddle but her eyes went to Arwen in confusion. "This is some sort of Elven saddle?"

Arwen judiciously held back her laughter. "You do not ride side-saddle?" she asked.

Again, only confusion.

Arwen demonstrated and Éowyn followed suit, though she seemed displeased that her Elven companion took it so easily that she had been trained to ride differently because she is a woman. As they walked onward, Arwen mentioned that they should take only a little rest on their journey, as before long Éomer would come to realize that his pregnant sister had just gone off to walk to the next kingdom, who's Steward had run out on her. Arwen understood that it would do no good to keep Éowyn from her goal. Éomer knew it well enough also, but Arwen had the compassion to help whereas Éomer's instinct would have been likely to drag her back to Edoras and lock the door. Having almost a day and a half's head start, as well as a small supply of lembas, the wives of the King and Steward arrived at Minas Tirith a day before Éomer.


	46. Don't Want to Weep for You

One evening after sharing dinner and conversation with his father, Faramir went out from the Citadel and made for the Merry Widow. He found himself wishing that Aragorn would join him, but he knew it was useless to even ask. The people would hardly let the King relax in a tavern. For the last couple weeks Faramir had been patronizing the 4th level establishment now and again, catching up with his old friends, though he was decidedly more cautious than he had been the first night when he inundated his sorrows rather imprudently.

As he was about to enter the tavern he saw the gate from the 3rd level open. He was sure that it was Queen Arwen who the guard knelt to and Faramir went to greet her. Rising from a bow, Faramir noticed what he thought was her escort approaching. When he saw clearer that it was actually his wife wearing a soldier's uniform he stared in incredulousness.

"Éowyn? What are you doing here?" His eyes widened when he realized that she must have been riding for the last week even though Aragorn had been strong in cautioning her against such activity. "What is this?" he asked as gently as he could through his disbelief.

Faramir offered to help her down but Éowyn refused his arm and his questions. Somewhere between Firien Wood and the Druadan she made up her mind that it wasn't pity she felt for him, but anger. Faramir sighed, realizing he would get no answers from her in the mood she was in. Instead he turned to Arwen who filled him as much as she felt it was her place to. Ever the peacemaker, Gondor's Queen suggested that they all get out of the street and in to the Citadel before going into discussions.

Attaining the 7th level and sending Arwen's mare to the stable the three entered. Neither Faramir nor Éowyn had spoken the whole while and once indoors, Faramir headed to his study and Éowyn followed stubbornly. Arwen knew her husband would be found in his study and she went there first.

Aragorn was not even aware of her presence, such is the silence in which Elves move, until Arwen wrapped her arms around her belovéd's shoulders. The small kiss to his temple prompted him to pull her into a deeper, fuller kiss and his he looked into her eyes, as ever, he was rendered wordless. Suddenly, if he just realized that he hadn't fallen asleep at his desk, he grew concerned and asked her how she had gotten to Minas Tirith.

"I walked, _meleth,_" Arwen said understatedly.

"You... what? Why? What happened? Something is wrong, please tell me," Aragorn didn't let her get a word in edgeways through his alarm. He was entirely confused by Arwen's smile.

"There is nothing so terribly wrong," she said, her voice soothing to her husband. "Though i warn you, by tomorrow you will likely have an angry neighbor to host. Éowyn refused to remain in Edoras when Faramir left, and i journeyed with her. She knew it dangerous to ride, yet she would have walked this way utterly alone. Éomer would only have tried to make her stay, and for her that would be no healthier."

Aragorn sighed. "You are a selfless woman, Arwen," he said, her hand in his. "Maybe it won't be so bad anyway. They will likely make up now, Faramir has been doing a lot better emotionally now that he is back to work again. I guess they had a pretty bad fight, but Faramir hasn't mentioned any details. In truth, though, i am little concerned. He has been visiting the inn down on the 4th level a lot lately. One night two of his friends brought him back here unconscious. I suppose these things are to be expected though, and he is a strong enough man to hold his own." Aragorn was mostly talking to himself and Arwen knew this. She simply settled herself into his embrace and rested her head on his shoulder.

ooo

Things were not so gentle in the Steward's study. For a while Éowyn simply glared daggers at Faramir, until finally he decided to break the tedious silence. "Why did you come here, Éowyn?" he said quietly.

"I came because i do not give up and run away from problems," she said definitively.

Faramir opened his mouth to protest, but then he remembered something Denethor said to him about abandoning Osgiliath when the forces of Mordor pressed in on them. At the time Faramir knew that he had no choice but to retreat to save the lives of his men; even if they stayed and fought the invaders it would only end up in a slaughter and Faramir knew that this war was going to demand every man that could hold a weapon. Now Faramir wondered, maybe he had given up too easily.

He wanted to argue with Éowyn that he never ran from his problems, that he faced all that life threw his way bravely and without hostility. He remained silent though, and as much as he hated it, he knew he was just shutting off his emotions as he used to. 'Why,' he asked himself, 'do the people i love always scorn me?' He guessed that the hurt feeling he experienced at her words meant that he really did have feelings for her.

Faramir's silence was extremely maddening to Éowyn. She felt that when men refused to talk to her it was because they thought women too weak of mind to be reasoned with. "Speak to me, Faramir! You at least owe me an explanation as to why you ran from me the day after our wedding feast!"

Since arriving home he had been at peace and not doubting himself, but now his own wife had him in the same position that the man who he thought was his father often did. Faramir broke his silence then, frustration with everything becoming too much for him. "Explanation? You mean to tell me that you did not realize that i left because i would not stay in a place where i am not trusted even to take a night's rest under the stars? Furthermore, why should i choose to remain with someone so lacking in courtesy to the dead?"

Éowyn laughed joylessly in total disbelief. "You can not mean that you left with such righteous anger over mere _words_!"

There was one thing that Faramir knew for certain, all that he had ever been comfortable with and all that had ever truly hurt always had to do with words rather than weapons. From the tales his mother used to tell him to the irrational order of Denethor's last words to him, from books he'd read, to poems he'd composed, to music he'd studied (notes being their own manner of "words"), words had incredible impact on Faramir's life.

"Yes, words. Though they were not 'mere' in any sense. You do not know how words can cut a man. You think that you can only do injury while wielding your sword, but you are wrong, Éowyn. Just as you keep your sword sheathed when you are not among enemies, so should you keep your words." Faramir realized fully that he was putting things in martial metaphors all too easily, for it was one of the only ways he knew to communicate sensitive matters to his big brother.

It was now Éowyn's turn to become rather quiet, though steely resolve still reflected in her eyes. When she became aware of the pressure at her back she was seated, though it annoyed her all the more that she should show such a thing that she perceived as weakness.

Faramir sighed and went to the window, silently praying that an Eagle would come down from on high and take him somewhere far away. Realizing that Eagles never intervened until all hope was lost, Faramir turned and regarded Eowyn. He noticed that she was beginning to show her condition and that pain was a steady undercurrent beneath her prideful veneer.

"Why did we marry, Éowyn? We can not even talk to one another. I had thought that even if love was to be ill-fated between two people so different, perhaps we might yet have companionship in one another. Did you only accept me out of the need of your situation?" The questions that really burned in his mind he did not ask aloud, but they assaulted him nonetheless: 'Am i what you settled for, instead of my father? Am i just second best, as every other time?' Why, Faramir wondered, did the Valar hate him so?

ooo

_meleth = love, dear_


	47. Black Feathered Wings Unfurled

Since Éowyn did not answer his question, he guessed he was rather on target and decided that he need not stay around. He told the guard that should the Lady emerge from his study that he should show her to the best chambers currently untaken in the Citadel. On his way to go get some sleep so he could at least face the morning, Faramir desperately wanted to stop and talk to his father for a while, but neither Aragorn nor Arwen could be found in the Citadel. Faramir decided he would put it off, though he couldn't help the nagging thought that they were avoiding him.

Faramir wanted nothing more than to fall sound asleep when he laid down, but such was not in the stars for him. Instead he ran over in his mind everything that had gone on in the last months. When he learned that the war had been won and the Shadow vanquished, he had rejoiced thinking that his days of battle had ended and that he would again know what it was to live in peace. Though he felt slightly guilty to think it, he was just as glad to know that Denethor's ever-critical presence was also no more, and it seemed that a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Then when he learned that he had a father who cared about him and encouraged him, Faramir thought his fortunes truly changed.

He wondered now, though. It seemed that those things had been but brief rays of light between the overcast weather of his life. Since his mother's passing Faramir had done all he could to win the acceptance, if not love, of Denethor, but he always failed somehow. He had come to internalize the belief that if he only tried harder he would not fail others. When Aragorn's presence in his life began to change his perspective about what failing was, Faramir came to think that those who did not appreciate who he was were the ones with observation issues.

But now with his world darkening again it felt as though shadows were again lengthening, but only over him. His self-query from earlier that night came back to his mind, why did the Valar give him this fortune? Why, indeed? Perhaps it was the will of the Valar that had given him nothing but misery for the last 36 years. If so, why should they single him out so? Or moveover, why did they seem to demand such perfection from him, did they not know he was but one person, a weak mortal at that? Damn them! Why did they not challenge someone of their own strength?

Falling into an uneasy sleep, Faramir decided that this time he would not give up too easily. If the Deathless, the Lords of Valinor, wanted to see him fight and struggle, he would not disappoint, only he made up his mind that they would not see him defeated, as they seemed to wish. No, when his days had ended, he would not have gone in loss but in victory and glory to be remembered.

Sleep took the Steward but it did not last long and when he rose with the sun he went to Aragorn's study. His father was not yet there, in truth not yet awake, and Faramir sat at the east window as he had upon his return. His eyes were drawn to the skies as ever and settled upon the failing light of the Hunter, only this time the starry figure of the great Oromë did not draw a smile from the young man, but an angry stare. Even with the day he could not get out from under the oppressive watch of the Valar. Certainly, they watched ever, how long had it been since the last time they sent help? Or perhaps they had wanted to see the human race and all of Middle-earth fall. They obviously loved the Elves enough to call them West to safety before mortals took over and brought weakness and failure.

Now that was another matter. Elves, who lived forever, who had all the time in the world to learn and read and sing and anything else they so chose. Elves, who praised the scholar in equal measure with the warrior and held them with the same regard. Elves, who were beautiful beyond compare and loved wisdom and gentleness and beauty. Elves, who could read minds as well as hearts, and possessed powers that no mortal could rightly understand. Elves, who never had misery for which there was no escape.

When Aragorn finally entered the study with Arwen at his side, Faramir just stared with such heat and condemnation brewing in his heart. Some small, meek part of him did not understand why he was thinking and feeling these things, but was too afraid to challenge the shadow on his heart.


	48. Only You Can Break this Chain

When Celeborn, Galadhriel, and their people parted from Elrond, the twins, Gandalf and the Hobbits, they were returning to Lothlorien. Approaching Caras Galadon, Galadhriel suddenly laid a hand upon Celeborn's arm, halting him in his stride. The Lady stood still with a fey mood about her. Celeborn was well acquainted with these symptoms and waited for the glaze of her eyes to clear before resting a hand on her shoulder and inquiring.

Her voice trembled and all she said was, "It is Faramir. We must go to Minas Tirith."

"The shadow of the past troubles him again?" Celeborn asked pensively.

Galadhriel nodded and immediately they turned to set out again for Gondor's capital.

ooo

Arwen had hardly entered Aragorn's study with him but she drew back slightly. There was a great amount of negative energy in the room and she was surprised to find that it's spring was none other than Faramir. She was concerned to see that he stared at her with what could only be called contempt and entirely ignored her to go on talking to Aragorn. Leaving, Faramir practically pushed passed Arwen. She was not the only one who noted this strange behavior of someone who had utmost respect for the Eldar.

It was unfortunate that Faramir ran into Éowyn on the balcony as he was leaving the Citadel with some requisitions that needed to passed along to the Dwarves and various other craftsmen about the city. He considered just walking past her, but she called out to him.

"Faramir?" she said in a rather modest tone.

Stopping suddenly and turning, Faramir executed a chivalrous, if not almost sardonic, bow. "How may i serve you, my lady?" he asked dispassionately.

"Please do not be so cold with me," she pleaded, rising to stand before him. "I... I apologize for what i said about your family. If someone had said a thing like that to me, i would have been at arms in an instant. Ever since i learned of this pregnancy there have been moments when i do not know truly what i am saying or doing."

Faramir felt the pull to simply accept her apology and allow the matter to be at an end. 'Forgive her, you fool, as she forgave you!' he told himself. Then the thought came to him that it could be seen as insult to his mother and brother and as a weakness in him to let the matter go. Yes, the Lords of Valinor would have just loved to see him take that course again, but he refused. Instead he remained silent. Perhaps that old habit that he had often detested in himself would serve him well after all.

Searching Faramir's eyes desperately for any hint of caring, Éowyn chanced a step closer. Seeing no discernable emotion she lowered her eyes. "Faramir, i think that perchance it may be true that i only consented to our marriage because of my circumstances. I was sure that i loved you and that you felt the same as i, but so many times you have given me reason to doubt your heart, and i am no longer sure that i understand what love is either."

Still Faramir said nothing.

"Perhaps people of our standing lack a luxury that the lower class may have as theirs. We do not have the luxury of marriage for love, but we must marry for political reasons. Can we not at the least come to an understanding, some sort of compromise, instead of lamenting our fates?"

"You may lament fate, lady. I have a kingdom to tend to," Faramir said curtly before bowing irreverently again and leaving.

Several minutes after Faramir left Aragorn came through the same way, only he found Éowyn seated on a bench by the wall and in tears. She had not heard his approach and Aragorn sat beside her, putting an arm around her shaking shoulders. Hoping against hope that Faramir had a change of heart she looked up, but quickly lowered her gaze again. "Lord Aragorn...," she managed to whisper in a strained voice.

"_Dinen_, Éowyn. Speak not, be calm," Aragorn said soothingly. He held her and let her tears fall, just as Faramir had the night he arrived in Meduseld.

It was then that Faramir returned, having forgotten that he needed his father's signature to several documents. The Steward, in disgust of the sight before him, threw down the papers in his arms. "What is the meaning of this?" he shouted angrily.

Aragorn, who had been trying to control his temper since witnessing Faramir's attitude to Arwen, finally gave up trying and rose almost protectively. "I have been trying to comfort your wife, which is more than you have done! I would greatly like to know what is the matter with you, Faramir. What in the name of Mordor has gotten into you?"

Faramir took a step closer. "Nothing has gotten into me! I am seeing things more clearly than ever before. Such as, i see that i was justified in my believing that i am still second to you in Éowyn's heart. I see that all along what i thought was compassion was really just weakness and disregard for myself."

Aragorn was fuming with anger and obviously close to saying something that he would have indeed regretted. Éowyn stepped in firmly, though, and insisted they stop acting as children. Aragorn took several deep breaths and relaxed, if but a little. Faramir, however, only grew in rage. Éowyn knelt to retrieve the dropped scripts, but Aragorn stopped her.

"Leave them, those can be dealt with later," he said softly before turning to his son, his tone growing darker. "As for you, i want you to take the day off. Just go and get out of here for a while. I would rather prefer that you do not return to the Citadel until this temper you are in has passed."

"Or maybe you would prefer i do not return to the Citadel or even Minas Tirith?" Faramir asked through clenched teeth. "I can always go live in exile with Beregond, after all, he is only alive because he helped to save my shameful life," he suggested sarcastically.

"Faramir!" Aragorn said warningly.

The Steward forced a mock smile and bow. "As you wish, my Lord," he said before turning on his heel and disappearing.

Éowyn turned to Aragorn in apology when Faramir left abruptly but the King refused to hear of it. Éowyn was appreciative of his kindness and went to lie down for a while in her room. It was getting to where she could no longer deny that her condition weakened her.

Left alone on his balcony, Aragorn sank down to the floor against the balustrade. Being King was definitely everything he had feared for 68 years that it would be. What he needed was his father's wisdom, but he had to make do with his own. He already regretting forcing Faramir to go cool down. Now that he put thought into it, he realized that what he should have done would have been to ask his son to take care of others matters in his study, then sit down and talk things out with him. After all, Faramir had been doing so well those last few weeks while he was accomplishing much in the kingdom. Looking through Faramir's eyes, Aragorn realized that it probably looked to his son like he didn't want to look at him or help him as a father should.

"Damn it!" Aragorn cursed himself loudly. He had sworn to himself that he would do all he could to be a good father to Faramir, and Aragorn hated to be confronted with his shortcomings.


	49. Lying and Trying to Make Me Confused

The gentle touch to his shoulder eased the King's aggravation. Still peace pervaded and Aragorn felt inspired enough to look into Galadhriel's eyes. Even in the day, stars sparkled in her watch. Aragorn lowered his head in respect.

"Rise up, Elfstone," Galadhriel said in her song-like voice. "Your son needs you now, more than either of us may know."

Aragorn looked from her to Celeborn, "I only wish i knew how to help him. I thought you were returning to Lorien, though?"

"We had," Celeborn replied. "Our presence was needed here again, though."

"You know what troubles him then?" Aragorn asked optimistically, though cautiously.

"I may," the Lady said, "but i do not know without doubt and i should not like to guess at what may prove serious." Ever did the White Lady speak in riddles. By this time Aragorn had deemed it a hallmark of wisdom. "Aragorn, what is most important is that Faramir stays here where you can support him. You are his hope, Estel, and it is hope that he needs. Hope, love, and support."

Aragorn sighed deeply. "What is it that bothers him, though? It is his marriage? I thought he was fine, if not a little strained, until Éowyn returned here. Then he became so cold with her, and even Arwen and i. That is not his way though, and i do not understand. I would turn the world for my son, if only i knew how."

Galadhriel smiled softly. "You have turned the world for him Estel. Now it is up to you to help him keep his balance. If what i have seen is right, Faramir feels as though his world is turning dark again, as dark as it was before you healed him. Somehow Faramir feels that this shadowing is by the will of the Valar, thus he needs you now more than ever before."

"By the will of the Valar? But why would he believe such a thing? That sounds akin to what Fëanor said." Aragorn's knowledge of the ancient tales now haunted him, and knowing that history tended to repeat did him no comfort.

Galadhriel, being one of the only Elves yet in Middle-earth who knew Fëanor, knew all too well the things that Fëanor had once said in the safety and comfort of the Blessed Realm. "Do not allow despair to grasp Faramir, Aragorn. You must give him hope."

Aragorn nodded and went then to find Faramir in hopes that they might talk as father and son again, instead of King and Steward.

ooo

When Faramir entered the Merry Widow he was feeling at a low point. He hated the disheartened and vulnerable mood he was in, almost as much as he hated the angry mood he had taken with Éowyn and his father. At the time, he saw his anger as strength, but now it only looked like a weakness and made him feel all the weaker for it. He didn't even know what he was trying to do. 'Why,' he asked himself, 'would i not even talk to her?'

He began second-guessing himself right and left. Was anger strength? Was it anger with others that would appease the Valar? Or, since he figured they had wanted to see him weakened, would his anger only serve to anger them? Perhaps, if his anger was weakness, that would please them. Did they really want to see him weak? Maybe he was wrong about everything, maybe the Valar only showed him this weakness to make him stronger in a more compassionate way. Maybe the Valar had nothing at all to do with it in the first place.

Faramir was so confused by not only the strength versus weakness debate, but also by his own life. Why had he made some of the decisions he had made? Why, for example, had he chosen to forgive his father so easily? That he had two immediate answers for: either he was very weak and needy, or because he had compassion and understanding for others. The dark thoughts in his mind encouraged him to believe it was both, but that compassion was a weakness. It hurt his heart to think these things, Aragorn had been the best influence in his life so far, besides his brother, and had always shown him more consideration than he thought possible. 'Always except for all the years from birth to the war,' a voice unkind within him countered.

It seemed that two forces, two different personalities raged within him. One was something he had never known before. It was bitter and angry and wanted to shut others out. But he had never before felt that way. Numerous times he had just wanted to be alone, to have peace and quiet, but it was never with a bitter or hateful bent. But now he second-guessed even that. He felt like crying as he realized he did not even know who he was anymore.

Faramir left the tavern without having taken a drink. He just wanted to be alone that he could try to sort of this mess that his life had become. At least in his youth there had always been an order to things, his father hated him, his brother loved and supported him, if he did not understand him, and life simply went on with the same precision. He used to think that one day, without Denethor's ever-looming, ever-castigating authority, he had a great chance of making something solid and permanent and rewarding of his life, something other than the rootless existence of a Ranger. Now that he was on his own as a man, as he had wished for so long to be, he felt he had terribly muddled everything.

Faramir wandered upward through the city, gate by gate, hoping just to go lock himself in his chamber and think. Approaching the 7th gate he remembered that his father did not wish to see him around for a while. Feeling discouraged, he turned back toward the 6th level gate since he no longer considered the gardens a comforting place.

Just then he heard someone rather hastily addressing the guard at the lower gate. He sounded mad and was asking for the Steward. Faramir sighed and wished he had a magic ring that would allow him to disappear. The only rings he had now were the Ring of the House of Húrin, which he now referred to as the Ring of the Steward because he was no Húrin, and he never wore because to him it had always been a symbol of Denethor, and the Ring of Barahir, a gift from Aragorn which he never wore because it would have betrayed his heritage.

Since he could not disappear, Faramir took the responsibility of greeting whatever angry guest had turned up for him. If he had wanted to disappear before, the desire doubled when he saw Éomer, flashing eyes, battle glower, and all, just up ahead.

Leaping out of his saddle, Éomer saw Faramir and immediately set upon him, taking him by the collar. "You abandoned my sister!" he shouted, throwing Faramir against a wall. These actions had been too routine to the Steward over the years and instead of trying to fight back he just shut off all emotions and allowed his eyes to close lightly. Éomer was a rash man, he would be likely to kill to the Steward, and Faramir just hoped he would be quick about it.

"Unhand him!" shouted two voices in unison, two voices Faramir knew well. Slowly and reluctantly Éomer released his grip. Turning, he glared at the two men. Faramir decided not to move or to open his eyes. He wanted nothing to do with this.

"Are you so eager again for battle that you handle my s-Steward in such a manner?" Faramir heard Aragorn's voice hiss at Éomer. He wasn't sure however if his father refrained from referring to him as his son because Éomer did not yet know or because he wished not to claim him as more than an assistant.

The other man, his uncle Imrahil who had rode with Lothíriel and Éomer to Minas Tirith upon word that Faramir had left, spoke in a low tone as well to the King of Rohan. "You ask me for my daughter's hand, yet treat my nephew thusly?"

Lothíriel interceded and suggested they all keep their tempers in check and resolve their arguments in a manner more befitting gentlemen. Three of the four men sulkily agreed that the lady was right and they went briskly toward the Citadel where such an argument might be better kept confidential. Faramir followed uninterested along only because of his involvement.

ooo

_To AM: If only it was just a bout of Post Traumatic Stress that plagues our poor Fara'! _

_Like i said... reading the Silmarillion is almost a pre-requisite for some of this stuff. If you don't want to spend months sifting through Middle-earth history, however, you might go to and look up Feanor and Melkor/Morgoth. That might give you some kind of understanding of what is going on with Faramir._


	50. Mother Dear No One Cares About Love

It was a trick the Steward had learned early on, a sort of self-preservation tactic, something that even an Elf might be impressed with... or not. Faramir, though looking alert and attentive and concerned, was in fact deep in contemplation. As Aragorn, Éomer, and Imrahil started out trying to clear up this matter of just why Faramir had left Minas Tirith two months early, without notice, one thing just precipitated another until the three of them were arguing over things that Faramir's presence was a moot-point in.

Faramir situated himself further to the side in Aragorn's study, where he hoped to fade into the background. On the way to such unpleasant and unnecessary meetings as these, Faramir was choose a topic to concentrate and reflect upon. This afternoon it was wondering what could have driven him to behave so coarsely toward Éowyn. He knew that somehow, someway, he had to figure out what was troubling him so, and he had to find a way to change it. Never before had he treated a lady in such a manner. He was hating what he was becoming.

Always had Faramir been the one who could be counted on to be completely and utterly urbane, if not unreasonably reserved, around women. There had been a time early in his manhood that he and Boromir had made their way to the Merry Widow. Almost immediately upon being seated women seemed to come out of the woodwork to fawn over Boromir. The elder brother had his arms full at all times, hardly getting a chance to get near his ale. Faramir sat by in silent annoyance. The two had come to this place to talk away from the eared walls of the Citadel. When Boromir finally managed to pry his attention away from the feminine beauties who besieged him, he noticed his brother across the table looking bored.

Faramir was by no means any less handsome than his older brother, but since he unconsciously assumed that women were more interested in swordsmen than bookmen he did not even try to attract attention. He was not aware that he was the focus of much more than his fair share of ladies' attentions with his quiet ways, and left them disappointed when he paid no heed to their gazes. The few times that he did notice a lady staring at him he thought she probably found something unright about his appearance.

Shaking his head at his little brother's introversion, Boromir whispered to the woman who had found herself a comfortable place at his left side. Moving over to the other brother, she laid a gentle kiss to Faramir's cheek, pulling him perplexed out of the daydream he was having. Before he had time to react, she was nearly dragging him by his shirt sleeve up the stairs by the bar, Boromir and his attendant following too close for Faramir to escape.

Faramir was shaking like a leaf as his brother helped give him a shove into a vacant room. He seriously hoped that he could get out of this with little more than some intelligent conversation. Denethor was always strong in cautioning people against false hope, but Faramir never put stock into that. The nameless woman efficiently unlaced and shrugged off her bodice before cornering Faramir and pressing a kiss to his lips.

Faramir broke out into a cold sweat as he tried to gently push her away in a manner which would seem gentlemanly and yet not cause her shift to slip any lower on her chest. It was impossible. Instead he reached for a small pouch he kept on his belt. He fumbled for a silver coin, hoping if he paid her she would leave him alone. Instead, she tossed the money on the bed and dropped to her knees, where she began to unlace his breeches. Faramir finally broke impatiently away from her.

"What do you think you are doing?! I paid you, move on. What's gotten into you woman?" he asked, offended.

She only smiled though, used to gentlemen who played hard to get for a while, just to maintain a façade of reputation. "Nothing has gotten into me, soldier... not yet," she said suggestively.

"And nothing shall as long as i am in this room, which i shall not be longer. You may note that i have enough respect for you to pay you without expectation. Just leave me alone, please," Faramir said, almost pleadingly. All it earned him was an extremely hard slap to the face.

When he saw Boromir next he could not help telling him off about giving up his habit with tavern women, at least in respect of their mother. Faramir had counted that evening the most humiliating experience of his life, but it was not without benefit. It had shown him just why he did respect women, and it made him realize that he needed to do something to apologize to Éowyn, the sooner the better.

In his meditation, Faramir did not hear Éomer's remark to Aragorn that his Steward's comportment was comparable to that of Theoden's chief counselor.

That was far too much for Aragorn to stand and the instincts of fatherhood took over, as Gondor's King slammed a fist to his desk to avoid allowing it to connect with Éomer's jaw. "You will not speak thusly of my son!" Aragorn fairly roared in rage.

Éomer started to shout something about it being Faramir's fault that his sister was in such distress, he was going to sharply point out the fact that Faramir was only Aragorn's Steward and not really worthy of his sister's hand anyway. Then confusion struck the Horselord. "Why did you refer to him as your...," Rohan's King trailed off seeing the warning fire in Aragorn's eyes.

The next few months were sure to be very interesting around Minas Tirith, Faramir thought to himself before slipping out unnoticed as another fight erupted between the two Kings and the Prince.

_ooo_

_I think i might have had a real note to leave here, but i can't think of it. Hopefully i will have this story complete in the next couple weeks. I will (finally!) be off on a lovely seaside holiday the week beginning the 11th. Hopefully i won't drag it out and make you all wait... hopefully :)_


	51. Underneath the Skull of a Moon

When Faramir walked into his study, still hearing the three men in the other study shouting, his father sometimes lapsing into Sindarin which only irked Éomer more, he found two familiar Elves waiting for him. Glorfindel hurriedly ushered him inside and locked the door. The great Balrog-slayer looked petrified. Faramir started to look confused, then he guessed that anything was possible when these Elves were around, so decided it would be a waste of energy to bother being startled.

Erestor took him squarely by the shoulders and looked directly into his eyes. "If you go anywhere near even one of those women, you are a madman. Please tell us it is safe in here?"

Faramir nodded slowly, breaking Erestor's frightened hold and moving to his desk. He could not suppress the small wisp of a smile that crossed his face to leave troubles outside and get on with the work of the kingdom. Erestor settled with assurance that the study was secure and took a seat across from Faramir, offering him a hand with the papers.

Glorfindel remained standing and went to the window. He stood there looking about as if measuring distances for some time.

"You will not be able to escape, _mellon_," Erestor said with no small amount of satisfaction in his voice.

"Neither will you, if that be the case," Glorfindel said pointedly.

"_Ai_, but i am not the one who made that... ill-advised remark." Erestor's grin was maddening. "I just think they have all gone insane."

Glorfindel shuddered. "Of course, Galadhriel has been like that since the fall of Doriath and the rest of Beleriand, when she realized kingdoms were for the taking. You have to expect her granddaughter to have picked up some of it, but when you combine that with what she picked up from Elrond... i have nothing but pity for poor young Estel if he ever makes a wrong move."

By this time Faramir was really beginning to wonder what these two were prattling about, but he knew it would all come to light much too soon anyway. Erestor started to mention something about Éowyn being just as mad as the other two they had just discussed, but a withering stare from Faramir stemmed that. The advisor had seen that glare all too often from the one he assisted in what seemed like it must have been a previously life, but was in reality less than a year.

Faramir sighed and let Erestor go ahead and take on whatever work he wanted to. Faramir knew he needed to go see Éowyn. On his way toward the chambers set aside for her in the Citadel he wondered how he would explain to his wife that he could scarcely even understand his actions, let alone explain or apologize for them. He had not counted on his cousin berating him stridently from the moment she answered his knock at Éowyn's door to the moment she sent him away like a scolded child.

Faramir sighed and decided to just give up. Entering his chambers, for some unknown reason, his heart about hit rock bottom. Closing the door behind him he sank down to the floor, acting as a human barricade because the last thing he wanted to see was another person who would turn on him. He was wracked with overwhelming, painful sadness. He felt scorned, rejected, abandoned. He painfully reminded himself that he had brought this on himself with his behavior. He was unable to restrain his tears. He wondered if, since everyone else had given up on him, he should not do the same. Faramir was tired of experiencing sadness and anger that he did not understand, more than anything he was tired of being someone he no longer knew. He realized that his life had started to unravel the day he found Boromir dead.

The Steward's eyes, which had been fixed on a spot of nothingness about six inches in front of his face for about a half an hour, now moved upward, not quite of his own accord, and looked out into the darkness of his unlit chambers. The open window directly opposite the door let in the pale sheen of the full moon, but because the window faced east and the moon was at its summit, the light admitted was still rather sparing. The whitish-blue of the moonlight glinted off an object resting on the bed, catching Faramir's attention. A chilly autumnal breeze crept around Faramir, making him shiver involuntarily as he rose to find out what gleamed a reflection so. Picking it up he found it was his father's Elven hunting knife.

Faramir carefully ran his fingers first over the etched runes, then along the edge of the blade itself. "_Gûd daedheloth_," Faramir said aloud softly, reading the Sindarin in Tengwar runes. "Foe of Morgoth's Realm."

A cloud passed over the moon, cutting off Faramir's lone light source. A fell urge to drive the knife into his own forearm swept Faramir. So much could end then and there, he thought. All the years from his mother's death to Boromir's could be gone, all the pain with them, no more worry about who would be disappointed or displeased.

Faramir's fingers tightened around the smooth wood of the handgrip. The breeze delayed and the shadow lingered, causing Faramir to lose his focus on the Elven runes. A state of bemusement seemed to invade and cloud Faramir's mind and he was not completely aware that he was lifting the knife only to drive it quickly downward.

At that moment the breeze finally thrust the dark cloud aside and the fair moonlight again reflected on the Elvish words _gûd daedheloth. _It was the last thing Faramir saw before the blackness swarmed him.

ooo

_No, you are not allowed to ask... you just have to wait till next chapter up. However, if anyone who hasn't (or anyone who has for that matter) read the Silmarillion, really doesn't understand what's going on here (the Morgoth references, etc.) i will explain, just drop a note.. _


	52. He Begs Just for a Smile

That night Aragorn had finally resorted to exercising his authority to make it plain to Éomer that no matter what personal matters existed, he was King of this land they were in, and thus would be retiring the argument for the night when he said so. He really felt more sorry for the two guards that he called to drag the enraged Horselord to his chamber and lock the door. On his way to his own bed, he reminded himself to give them good compensation.

Passing Faramir's door, Aragorn took a deep breath. He needed to apologize to his son. Just as he was about to knock, Éowyn approached from the other end of the hall. She told Aragorn that she too had come to apologize, but because she confided in Lothiriel some things she perhaps shouldn't have, judging by her reaction when Faramir appeared at the door.

Aragorn knocked, receiving no response. "His world is weighing upon him so heavily. Perhaps he is asleep, and i hate to wake him, but i know if i put this off till morning it will make things worse."

Éowyn agreed that he had been through much lately, and though he needed his rest, he also needed much support. "The Lady Galadhriel said something about his behavior that i did not understand. I have never heard of this fell spirit of darkness that she thinks follows Faramir."

"The remnants of Morgoth's spirit?"

Éowyn nodded. "She said something at my uncle's funeral feast, but i thought she said that Faramir had overcome that influence."

Aragorn's voice sounded dismal. "Morgoth was one of the Valar, and before that was one of the Ainur. His power is still ever-strong. All along i have thought that Sauron fed on his evil and kept it closely guarded in Mordor. I did not think that with Sauron's destruction there would be nothing that needed to keep that power for itself." Denial took him away from his thoughts, "That can not be what overreaches my son, though. He is just having a difficult time with all that has gone on lately. I expected as much, and we just need to give him our full support until he sees that there are people in his life who will never abandon him, no matter what."

Aragorn knocked again. No response. He bid Éowyn to be seated there in the hall until he came out again. He was a little worried for Faramir, having never met the Ranger who did not wake to the slightest sound in the middle of the night. He suspected that his son had been down to the Merry Widow again and had passed out, hopefully in bed.

Aragorn tried the door, found it unlocked, and so entered. He could see Faramir's figure slumped over the end of the bed. Aragorn shook his head, thinking he should never have let him drown his sorrows alone. As he crossed the room to straighten Faramir into a position that would not cause him severe stiffness in the morning, he saw out of the corner of his eye the glint off his hunting knife, laying at Faramir's feet. The Elven letters in Feanorean script were illuminated: _Gûd daedheloth_.

He picked it up to return it to his sheath, wondering how he had forgotten it there. He remembered that he meant to leave it as a gift to Faramir and started to remove the sheath from his belt, when he noticed the blade was not clean and had been recently used. There were dark stains along the coverlet as well. Aragorn's breath came faster, trying to keep up with his wildly beating heart, as he frantically searched for the source of his son's spilt lifeblood.

Seeing the gaping wound in Faramir's left arm made Aragorn shudder deeply. His heart tightened and suddenly the King could not breathe. The father's instinct took over before the healer's, and he held Faramir close to him, mindlessly assuming the worst. "Not my son...," he muttered tearfully against Faramir's unruly tresses. "Please not my son."

Something at the back of his mind shouted a phrase that Elrond had used many times, "Do not mourn before you check for pulse, it can mean the difference between the Hall of Fire and the Halls of Mandos." Aragorn forced himself to gently lay his son down again and he pressed two fingers to Faramir's neck, silently begging to feel even the slightest current. He was just removing his fingers in defeat when he thought he felt the faintest throb.

Aragorn wept of thankful relief as he kissed Faramir's forehead. "_Cuio, ion-nín!"_ he whispered desperately. "Éowyn!" he shouted, "Send for Glorfindel and Erestor, i need them immediately. And the Lady of Lorien. Be of haste!"

Sending the guard to fetch the three Elves Aragorn called for she rushed in, fearing what would be found. As Faramir lay still on his bed the silver moonlight covered him making him look ethereal and Elf-like, the sight chilling Éowyn. She stiffened visibly seeing the trail of blood leading the wound on his arm that Aragorn was trying to staunch.

Aragorn swore under his breath wondering how long Faramir had been bleeding. "I need water and bandages, Éowyn," he said hurriedly.

As Eowyn was about to leave the room, Arwen entered with a cauldron and her husband's healer's gear. Rushing closely along were Glorfindel and Erestor, Galadhriel following them.

"Someone please light a fire," Aragorn said steadily, though he did not feel it.

Glorfindel knew Estel well enough that he could tell the man was not comfortable with so many bystanders, and he gently ushered Éowyn and Arwen out of Faramir's chamber and explicitly told the guard that there were to be no interruptions of any sort.

"Do you have Athelas, Glorfindel?" Aragorn asked worriedly.

"No, Estel," Glorfindel said softly, bringing a candle to the bedside. The Balrog-slayer cringed to see the wound closely. He knew it was going to need to be sutured and that Aragorn would not have the nerve for it.

"Damn! Nor do i, i gave all i had to...." He realized that the last Athelas he had was what he had given Faramir in Rohan. Letting Glorfindel take over the care of his wound, Aragorn looked for the pouch on Faramir's belt and thanked the Valar when he found it still full.

"Aragorn..." Glorfindel began gently. "That wound is going to need -"

"Stitched. I know, Glor'. You're going to have to...," Aragorn was finding it hard to verbalize. Under his touch, Faramir seemed neither to be fighting for life nor departing to death. Rather his son's spirit seemed to hover and waver in indecision. Aragorn felt his heart sinking. Why didn't Faramir try? As a father, Aragorn felt despair, as a healer, it made him angry.

Glorfindel handed Aragorn the Athelas-soaked cloth, hoping that it would take the King's thoughts off his torn emotions. He and Erestor took to the farther end of the room, staying nearby in case they were needed, but also out of the way, not minding if Aragorn forgot them for a while.

Galadhriel leaned in closer to the Steward, laying a hand over his wound. "This is not the end of Faramir, son of Aragorn," she said softly. "You must but stop the bleeding long enough for healing to begin and the rest shall take care of itself. I must speak with him when he awakes, though. There are things that Faramir must know in order to fight." Galadhriel smiled at Aragorn's wordless nod. "Set your son on the path of healing, then rest yourself Elessar." Again he only nodded, and pressing a reassuring hand to his, the Lady departed

Aragorn's heart was filled with unease though. He still did not feel Faramir trying to fight to wakefulness. It was as it had been when Aragorn first laid eyes on his son again in the Houses of Healing, only worse. Now it seemed more like Faramir almost wanted to lay down his life, whereas under the Black Breath it was more of a struggle just to get his son to wake again. His kingdom was not worth this, not worth losing his son. Aragorn wept bitterly, lowering his head in anguish, uncertainty, and a particular sense of failure as a father. The horror that none of this would have happened if he had done things differently flooded him. Aragorn's whispers were desperate. "Faramir... come back, please. Please don't go into the shadow. Faramir.... Do not leave me, my son. Please."


	53. The Pain I Might Leave Behind

After a few moments Glorfindel went to talk to Éowyn, if Galadhriel hadn't already. He knew when he returned to Faramir's chamber he would either have to perform a painstaking surgical procedure on the young man's forearm, very close to delicate blood vessels, or there would be no need. The Balrog-slayer-turned-healer steeled himself for the former.

Instead of finding just Galadhriel, Glorfindel found Arwen as well explaining things not only to Éowyn, but her brother and Faramir's cousin as well. No one mentioned anything about what might have caused the wound, Éowyn felt she already knew and would say nothing. Both Galadhriel and Arwen did know; they spoke neither of it, for they knew the depth of it that the three Mortal children could not comprehend. Galadhriel sent them along, bidding them all three to rest and promising that nothing would change until morning. The night was going to be a long one.

With the younger people gone, Glorfindel sat with a heavy sigh. He looked into Galadhriel's eyes, a task some of strongest could not often accomplish. "What kind of strength has he regained? Is this Námo's prophecy?"

"Not yet," Galadhriel said calmly. "Though i fear that it may come sooner than we thought."  
"Why did it go for Faramir, though?" Arwen asked her grandmother.

The Lady of the Wood took a deep breath. "He hoped to accomplish what Sauron could not. He at least knew that he could not strike Aragorn, not directly. You see now, his evil had all along been directing Sauron. The three who fell under the Black Breath were no coincidence. However Morgoth can not know the hearts of men, he can only judge appearances, and he misjudged the Nazgûl's targets. He knew that it was Halfling who carried Sauron's Ring, and so struck Merry. He saw Éowyn's attention to Aragorn, whereas yours was obscured by Vilya's power, and so struck her. Faramir he first struck because he was to have been Aragorn's Steward. When he saw all three recovered and Sauron defeated with finality, Morgoth flew into a rage and acted almost injudiciously. His power is still too weak and now we know what he intends. He targeted Faramir because he was angered that he was able to fend off Sauron's influence so easily. When he saw how dear Faramir is to Aragorn, he renewed his attack on the poor young man. He wants to divide and conquer, his favorite game, and so beset Faramir's heart and mind with lies. He wants to take Faramir down and Aragorn with him. Faramir should be able to fight through this and not be plagued again, for Morgoth will not risk such a foolish open attack again. Not for a while, at least until he has built a following. This Aragorn must be well aware of, though i think it will not come in his reign."

Glorfindel sighed, the memory returning of Morgoth's destruction of Beleriand and Gondolin with it. The Elf wondered if he would live to see Gondor taken down in the same way. He decided that the best thing he could do now was to help Aragorn all he could and to get Faramir back to health.

Galadhriel and Arwen stayed near at hand, but remained out of the room. Arwen had grown concerned that if the Dark Foe failed to overcome Faramir that it would go for Aragorn directly. Galadhriel, however, assured her that if Morgoth's spirit failed this time it would be a grievous set back for the evil one. She also reminded her of Beren and Luthien's victory over Morgoth.

When Glorfindel reentered the Steward's chamber Erestor had not moved and Aragorn was still seated beside his son, looking more than despondent. A hand to Erestor's shoulder was signal enough and the dark-haired advisor began to prepare what Glorfindel would need to suture Faramir's wound.

"Estel," Glorfindel spoke softly, just trying to draw his attention from his suffering son.

Slowly he raised his head. "Please be careful, Glor'. I would do this myself but i feel so powerless against this."

Glorfindel's wisp of a smile spoke of understanding. "I have been doing this for many more years than you have walked Arda. Fear not, you are not at all powerless, Estel. You are his father and he needs you."  
Aragorn laid a hand on Faramir's forehead, the other grasping his son's right hand. "If my father were here i would apologize profusely for every time i put him through something like this."

"I know, Estel. Just remember, the twins put him through more than you could conjure," Glorfindel said teasingly. His smile faded into steady calm when Erestor handed him the threaded needle. "Let's get him taken care of. Did he take the water?" Glorfindel asked Aragorn.

"Yes, just enough to keep him asleep through this, though. I need him to wake up in the morning, my nerves can not take this." He was visibly shaking and Glorfindel asked him gently to take his hands off Faramir, lest the trembling cause him to hit a vein.

Erestor did what he could to keep Aragorn distracted, the advisor wondering that he was seeing for the first time just how much this human boy had grown since Elrond took him and his mother in. Glorfindel took a deep breath, steadied himself, and prepared to make the first stitch.

ooo

_There is a good bit of information in this chapter about Morgoth. This refers to a prophecy made by Mandos. Anyone who wants the details of the prophecy, let me know._


	54. On This Bed There Lyeth a Knight

At long last night came to an end with the sky beginning to grow lighter. Aragorn wearily and almost grudgingly rose to look out the east window. He wished that just this once Earendil would change course and appear as Morning's Star in the east instead of the west.

Morning brought at least some hope to the Ranger. Glorfindel's surgery, though slow and tedious, was perfect, the Elven threads hardly obvious. Now it was just a matter of allowing the arm's muscles and tissues to heal properly, then exercising it back to strength.

Aragorn laughed shortly in something that sounded like self-contempt at thinking these things. Sure, that was what was required for the arm to heal, but what about Faramir's heart? What had driven his son to put a knife through his own arm? What would he say to his son when, or if, he awoke?

He turned back to look at Faramir, the morning's softly tinted light enveloping him in warmth such a contrast to the cold silver that had laid over him in the night. Though morning was fair, Aragorn shivered of hungry and fear for his grown child. Erestor could stand it no longer and forced the King to eat something. The three of them had been awake through the night, Glorfindel allowing himself a small bit of sleep after the surgery.

Together Aragorn and Erestor sat by the window, sharing a plate of fruit. The King's eyes never once moved from Faramir, and he ate only as a reaction to the hunger he felt, not wholly aware of his actions.

"Do you think his arm should be bound?" Aragorn asked in a voice that sounded wooden and far away. "If he wakes and moves it, he will be overcome by the pain. I know, it's happened to me."

"I know you know," Erestor said. "I was the one who assisted Glorfindel with the procedure when Elrond was too unsteady. Some things never change, _mellon_," the dark-haired Elf said dryly. "However, no, i do not think his arm should be bound. It needs to be free as long as possible if it is to heal properly."

"Why do you think he did it, Erestor? Why would my son do something like that?" Aragorn asked sadly.

"If he has had anything near what i dealt with when i was keeping that office, i am little surprised," Erestor said, quite regaining his typical personality. "Listen to me, though, Estel. Sometimes there are forces which push us to act in ways we would never act normally."

"Do you think he had too much to drink?" Aragorn asked, almost sounding childlike to Erestor's ears.

"Faramir did not drink last night, Estel. You have studied much. I know, for i taught you much. Use your knowledge. The knife you found was not a coincidence."

"It was my knife," Aragorn said, feeling a shot of guilt. "I was going to leave it as a gift to him. If i would have known -"

"None can know, Estel. You know that very well. Between Elrond and Mithrandir those should be the very words you live by. No, you must look deeper yet. Look to the knife itself. That is not just an ordinary knife," Erestor said pointedly.

"_Gud daedheloth,_" Aragorn said softly. "But if this is truly a foe of Morgoth's realm, then it should be our ally. Why did this thing cause such harm to my son?"

Erestor fought back a sad laugh. "Now you blame the steel, Aragorn? Must i tell you directly, can you not understand this?"

"No, Erestor, i can not understand," Aragorn snapped at the advisor. "I can not understand why my son drove a knife into his arm. I can not understand why he has been behaving strangely. I can not understand why he still sleeps. I can not understand why i feel in him indecision as to whether he wants to live or die. I can no longer understand anything, and i truly do not care. I just want someone to tell me how to get him back."

Erestor exhaled a long, deep sigh. He put his arm around Aragorn's tense shoulders. "I am sorry, _mellon. _I can see and feel how this plagues you. You must have faith and trust and hope though, do not give in to despair. We are not the only ones putting ourselves forth for him."

"I don't care about anything else, Erestor," Aragorn said, tears beginning to break. "I just want my son to be well."

"He will be, Estel," Erestor assured, allowing Aragorn to lean on him. "He is looking much better this morning than he did through the night. Give him a little more sleep, then perhaps you should gently try to wake him. I will go have something for him to eat brought up."

Aragorn nodded, moving closer to Faramir as Erestor rose. Again he took Faramir's hand in his. "Er'?" he said, glancing up.

The Elf looked back to him.

"Sorry i shouted at you. I should be thanking you, i owe you a great debt," Aragorn said apologetically.

Erestor merely shook his head. "You owe me nothing, Estel. If i can withstand Elrond's tirades, i can surely put up with an outburst or two from you. After all, he is a great Elf-lord, and you are but a weak Mortal," Erestor said with a grin as he disappeared out the door.

Aragorn shook his head, a wisp of a smile crossing his lips. It almost hurt to smile again after such a long while. Aragorn sat back in the large and comfortable chair at Faramir's bedside, Glorfindel sound asleep just opposite him. He admired the Balrog-slayer's work, Faramir's arm was no longer a chilling sight to behold, but looked almost as though nothing had happened at all.

Aragorn rose and tossed another Athelas leaf into the water on the hearth. He had been very judicious in allowing Erestor to handle the leaves through the night. He would have been reckless and put them all in at once in a desperate attempt to wake Faramir. Returning to his son's side, Aragorn rested back again and waited for the slightest stirring from his child. The steam and the peace of morning was quickly lulling him to his own much needed slumber when he swore he felt a tightening grasp from Faramir's hand.

"Faramir?" he called out, suddenly wide awake. "Faramir, wake, please." He rejoiced when he heard his son's voice, scarcely even a whisper, but he knew he heard him. He had spoken his brother's name, questioning and sounding as though he knew it was not his brother calling to him, but still asking for him. "Faramir, wake up, my son. Please, come back to me," Aragorn begged of him, knowing now his son could hear his pleas.

"_Adar_?" Faramir whispered, beginning to regain his voice.

ooo

_Since my wonderful reviewers have cracked the 100 mark, i thought i would give you all a little something to celebrate :) You have no idea how much i really love reading all your notes._

_To Kat: Thank you for your review! There actually was Athelas... it wasn't just Elf magic. In the same paragraph that Aragorn remembers he gave what he had to Faramir back in Rohan, he checks the pouch on Faramir's belt and finds it still filled with the leaves. Being a good Ranger, Fara' keeps the stuff on him at all times. __Of course, now you have me wondering if that sentence didn't turn on when i posted it, if not it must be corrected. _

_I really should get this beta-read, probably, but i am just so eager to upload the chapters when i have them written. And i know you are all eager to read them ASAP. (I am a secretary and at work it is my practice to have all things i have typed for publication proofread by three different people before printing... but then again, this is just fanfiction....)_


	55. Awake from the Nightmare

Aragorn wept of joy. It took all he had to fight back the temptation to grasp Faramir in a tight hug that would have been liable to have forced the life out of him. Instead he settled for a tear-stained but beaming smile and grasping his hand all the tighter.

"_Ion-nín_, _im nev,_" he whispered in response to Faramir's questioning. "Faramir...." Aragorn laid a gentle hand to his son's face, feeling life in him again, as Faramir slowly began to open his eyes. "I thought i had lost you."

"Father," Faramir said, his voice still only just a murmur. "What happened to me, father? Am i home again?"

"You are, Faramir, you are home," Aragorn said, wondering where Faramir thought he had been. He wished he could tell his son what had happened, he wished he understood what had happened.

Just then Faramir just slightly shifted his injured arm and pain shot through him, causing him to arch up in agony. It robbed him even of the ability to cry out and the pain lasted less than a minute but left him wide awake and sweating before Aragorn could grab the cloth soaked in Athelas and press it to his wound. Gradually Faramir began to relax but refused to test his arm again.

"Faramir, i am sorry," Aragorn said, brushing the damp cloth over Faramir's forehead. "I should have told you first thing not to move your arm. I wanted to bind it before you woke, but Erestor thought it best to allow it to heal freely."

"What happened, father? How was i injured?" Faramir asked in confusion, his voice coming up to a normal quality of sound again. "I heard so many voices and saw so many people last night, but i remember sustaining no injury."

"I do not know, Faramir. No one will tell me either. Damned Elves speak in riddles when they speak at all." Aragorn sighed and shook his head. "No. No, i did not mean that. If it hadn't been for Glor' and Erestor, i don't know what i would have done."

"How right you are," Erestor said, suddenly appearing next to a waking Glorfindel. "You are looking well, Faramir, much better than you did when we found you here," the dark-haired Elf said, handing a thankful Faramir a slice of fruit.

"Indeed, you are looking well. Let me have a look at your arm. Can you move it at all?" Glorfindel asked.

"No, not at all. I just shifted it when the worst pain i have ever felt wracked me," Faramir replied, making it plain he was not going to move his left arm, come what may. "Glorfindel, what happened to me?"

Glorfindel looked into Faramir's eyes and smiled vaguely. "I think i had better leave the explanations to the Lady of Lorien. I know of this, but she knows more."

"Can you at least tell me who i heard speaking to me?" Faramir asked, desperate for answers. The voices he had heard in the night chilled and frightened him, and though he was very glad to be awake again and feeling in safe hands, he feared to fall back into sleep.

"Speaking to you?" Erestor questioned in concern. "Perhaps it was us you heard, Faramir?"  
Faramir shook his head. "No. They were strange voices, speaking in a tongue i did not know, yet i could understand what they were saying. These voices sounded like nothing i have ever heard before. They were as the very voices of the elements of the earth. One was fluent and sounded rich and steady, almost like a deep running river. Another was patient, but stern, and though it caused me to fear i knew it spoke of caution and protection for me. There was a third that was also tolerant and firm, but it seemed a great lordly voice of someone with wisdom i could not fathom. A fourth voice there was as well, one that seemed to argue against the other three. It was the most fearsome sound i should ever have heard and just the sound of it i thought would rend the very earth. It's tone was that of the very black of a clouded, moonless night and when it spoke i felt like less than nothing. I wanted to be dead rather than to hear it. They only spoke to me, not to each other, these four disembodied voices, and when they spoke i perceived color, a different shade for each voice. The lordly voice was of blue, and the protecting voice of misty grey. The river's voice, as it seemed, was one in which i perceived not so much color but a beckoning. Those three seemed to speak all together from one side of me, while the black voice was opposite them. The three called urgently to me, they told me to fight against the fourth voice and to heed it not for it spoke naught but lies. I was caught in the middle and was sure that these beings were going to break out into a war over me."

Whereas Aragorn sat entirely as confused as Faramir was, Erestor looked as though his interpretation could not have possibly been. But Glorfindel stared at the Steward wide-eyed and agape. "The Lords spoke to you, Faramir?" Glorfindel said in pure astonishment.

"What Lords do you speak of, Master Glorfindel?" Faramir asked.

"The Lords of the West," Galadhriel said from the doorway. "The Valar. By your description, Faramir, you were spoken to by Ulmo, Lord of the Waters, Námo, Doomsman of the Valar, Manwë, King of Arda, and Morgoth Bauglir."

Faramir looked uncertain. "Why should they wish to speak to me? I am no one to the Lords of the West," Faramir said. Suddenly he remembered what he had thought but the morning last about the involvement of the Lords of Valinor in his life thus far.

Galadhriel's voice was soft with understanding. "The three spoke to you, Faramir, because an evil of Morgoth had beleaguered your thoughts with lies. Did you ever truly believe that you have suffered because the Valar willed it so?"

Faramir had not the strength to answer her directly. "I believed that they would have had me prove myself by not giving in to weaknesses. Yet suddenly everything that i did or said began to seem like a weakness. How was i injured though? I recall nothing happening to me."

Galadhriel looked from Faramir to Aragorn. "It was by the despair of Morgoth, Faramir. He chose _Gûd daedheloth _purely for it's paradox, thinking it would prove him greater than his foe."  
Faramir looked at his injury in disgrace. "I did this to myself?" he asked incredulously.

There was really no right way to answer him straightforwardly without causing the young man more pain. "Do you remember doing it, Faramir?" Galadhriel asked gently.

"No, lady, i do not," he replied truthfully. "I only remember holding the knife and seeing the letters illuminated in the moonlight. Strangely, it gave me hope, but then a cloud obscured the light and i suddenly felt bemused, my head at once both heavy and light. I felt as though i was falling into a sleep, and the last thing i remember seeing was the knife illuminated again."

"Then you are not at fault for this, Faramir. You are brave and true, young Steward," she said, her voice, as ever, of many woodland birdsongs. "The Dark Foe will not pursue you again, Faramir, for you have resisted and his power was not strong enough to claim you. You must believe in yourself, Faramir, for the sake of those who love you more than you realize, for those who have been, those who are, and for those who are yet to be," the White Lady of Lorien said as the White Lady of Rohan approached the bedchamber.


	56. We Could Be So Happy

With Éowyn also came Arwen, who silently took up at Aragorn's side. There was a moment or two of awkward formality before Arwen took her husband's hand, leading him outward. Aragorn smiled slightly, taking the not-so-subtle hint and breaking her hold momentarily.

Aragorn went to embrace his son, mindful of his healing wound. "You can not know how fearful for you i was, Faramir. Since i did not sleep last night of worry, and my wife seems to think that i can not survive more than a day without sleeping, i shall go now to my rest. But i will be nearby and i shall see how you are again as soon as i wake."

Faramir did not protest. "Thank you for staying by me, father. I have more to tell you, but i think your Lady is right, you do need sleep," he said with a small smile.

With that Aragorn allowed himself to be gently pulled from the room, followed by Galadhriel and Erestor. Glorfindel remained with his convalescent, but made so little intrusion, neither Faramir nor Éowyn really knew he had stayed.

"Éowyn... I -" Faramir broke off as a grown grey cat suddenly jumped up on his bed, studied him carefully for a moment, and laid down content at his side. Faramir laughed softly, "Mithrandir is always turning up where you least expect him. As i started to say, Éowyn -"

Éowyn came to rest on the edge of Faramir's bed. She halted his speech with a raised hand. "You do not have to make an apology to me, Faramir. I suppose i was not meant to hear it, but i did overhear the Elf-queen's discussion last evening with Master Glorfindel and the Lady of the Wood. I heard the Lady say that this Morgoth's evil attacked you by making you believe lies. I am not wise and intelligent, Faramir, i do not know who Námo and Morgoth are, but i have seen what happens when someone evil tells such crafted deceptions. I know that your behavior and the things you said were not really you or how you felt."

Faramir wondered how someone could not know who Morgoth was. All of the important tales dealt with those who fought against him and his influence. Beren and Luthien, Túrin, Earendil, even Glorfindel himself, certainly they knew those tales in Rohan. With his well arm, Faramir gently stroked the fat grey feline, taking comfort in the animal's presence as he usually did. "I do not yet fully understand either and i have much more yet to explain to those who might understand. But i still want to offer you my apologies. I do not think that the Black Foe influenced all of my action all of the time; in fact, i am sure of it. When i rode away from Rohan, that i did of my own accord. I am sorry that i acted imprudently and impulsively. I should have stayed to work it out with you."

Éowyn shook her head though. "This is your home, Faramir. I have learned that you are very happy and comfortable here, and far be it from me to take you from what you love. I will be content to remain here and learn the art of healing and gardening while i watch our children grow," she said, laying a hand on her rapidly expanding mid-section.

"How much longer is it now?" Faramir asked.

"Lady Galadhriel said she believes i will give birth in January... either one month early or one month late," Éowyn said calmly.

"You do know i will love them either way, no matter what, Éowyn," Faramir said honestly.

Éowyn smiled a hopeful smile, though tears of some unknown uncertainty brimmed in her eyes. Under her weak mask of happiness ran a steady undercurrent of sorrow, as always. Faramir wondered if she had simply always been a mournful woman. Certainly she'd had enough to mourn over, but he wished that just once he could see his wife truly happy. At least then he might know what he really did feel for her.

After a moment of quiet, Éowyn put a hand to her back, looking to be in pain. Faramir started to reach out to her, forgetting about his own injury, but suddenly pain from the movement lanced through him too. Glorfindel shook his head wearily, going over and pressing warmth to Faramir's arm and drawing a chair for Éowyn to be seated more comfortably, in accord with her condition. "What a pair," the Balrog-slayer muttered as he went back to his various vials and healing necessities.

Shortly thereafter Erestor entered quietly. "I will take care of your office, Faramir, until you feel sound enough to return," the advisor assured the Steward.

"I feel sound now, Erestor, though i do thank you," Faramir replied, still wincing from the surge of pain he'd just had. "If it were not for the fact that i can not move without agony, i would have already made my way to my office."

"Perhaps, then, your office can make it's way to you? I shall bring up a few things next time i come this way," Erestor said with his signature grin.

"You can not know how grateful i would be of that!" Faramir said, sounding again enthusiastic. If he had to be stuck in bed, at least he would still be useful.

"Then so it shall be, young Steward. However, you should not put all your energy into pure work, so i shall bring you a few selections from the modest library i keep in my pack as well," the dark-haired Elf said to Faramir's widening smile.

Glorfindel's most un-Elf-like grunt turned Erestor's head sharply. "Modest," the fair-haired one said under his breath, as though his companion's ears were somehow dulled.

"As for you, _mellon_," Erestor said to his caviler colleague, "Aragorn and Lord Celeborn wish to see you. Immediately."

"Why?" Glorfindel said, sounding petulant.

"That is for me to know, and you to worry about," Erestor said with a devious grin as he swept unperturbedly out of the room again.

Glorfindel set down the concoctions he was working on with exasperation. "Neither of you two move an inch. I will be back," he said to his charges as though they were indeed children.

Faramir laughed as the room grew less crowded. Faramir was growing entirely used to their behavior and found it greatly amusing. Éowyn, however, seemed worried that there was genuine animosity between the two Elves. He assured her that there was no serious discord to be found among them. He guessed that between working together so closely, both ranking so highly among the Lords of Imladris, and yet having such different (and yet not so different) personalities they simply settled on agreeing to disagree much of the time. Faramir knew if they truly could not stand each other's presence one would have left Gondor to head back to Rivendell a while ago. Then he figured that the odds were good that one of them had tried that in his absence but found the other already tacking up a horse, thus once again frustrating each other.

ooo

_Our favorite Elves are bickering again... that's got to be a good sign! I am truly hopeful that i will get this story finished this week, though with a Labor Day picnic tonight, and vacation shopping tomorrow, and a mandatory seminar at work Thursday, and getting packed up Friday.... Ai, Elbereth!_


	57. Nightmares by the Sea

That afternoon Faramir spent trying to explain to Éowyn as much as he could understand about what had happened to him during the night and the past few weeks. After some time she still felt as though everything was too new and overwhelming to her and she decided that she needed to lay down for a while, hoping one day she could comprehend what had befallen her husband.

That evening Aragorn returned with Glorfindel and a plate of supper for his son. Faramir was just beginning to wake from a nap he'd slipped into after Éowyn left. As he slowly opened his eyes, he was relieved to realize that he had not been spoken to by any of the Great Powers.

"So what did you have to worry about, Glorfindel?" Faramir asked with a wry grin.

"Your son is worse than Erestor, Aragorn," Glorfindel said with a pronounced glare.

Aragorn laughed as he handed Faramir a tankard. "He was almost trembling with fright over what we had to tell him. Erestor had him so agitated in the first place. Sometimes i can hardly believe you let him get to you, Glor'."

"He is utterly insufferable, Estel!" Glorfindel proclaimed, turning back to the concoctions he was working on earlier.

"Certainly Glorfindel, of all, should know what it is to be insufferable," Erestor said, wearing his favorite grin, as he entered the bed chamber with papers and books stacked neatly in his arms.

Glorfindel fought back desperately the urge to throw one of his small vials at the dark-haired advisor. The liquids they contained were too precious to waste on such an annoying target, so he convinced himself.

"These, Faramir, should keep you occupied for a while," Erestor said, ignoring Glorfindel's dagger-like stare since it no longer impressed him. "Tell me when you have exhausted all of this and more shall be forthcoming."

Faramir smiled, unreservedly thankful to Erestor for his consideration. Aragorn thought it had seemed so long since he had last seen his son smile like that. The King briefly allowed his mind to wander and he wondered what he would have done if Faramir had not wakened from the troubled night. The piercing pain in his heart told him to stay those thoughts and to be thankful that it was something he did not have to face.

After a short time Glorfindel departed, having offered Faramir a draught of his own making, meant to help speed the healing process for the Steward. Erestor left for the night to spend a few more of Aragorn's candles in the Steward's study, and father and son were left on their own again.

"And how did Éomer take the news that his sister has married his ally's son?" Faramir asked his father, sounding mildly ironic.

"In truth i have yet to find out, _ion-nín_," Aragorn said. "After another hour's worth of shouting with him and Imrahil, mostly him, i had a couple of guards escort him out so i could get some peace. I did not get any peace at all that night. I had forgotten that i had him locked in his chambers, but fortunately Arwen did not and had him released and explained everything to him. I may owe her my very life," he said with a slight grin.

"That is no more than i owe you, father. And i have to thank you for keeping everyone out of this corridor," Faramir said.

"I want you to rest and recoup as best you can. I can not do much without my Steward, Faramir," Aragorn said honestly. Faramir still knew the ins and outs and the people themselves of Minas Tirith a lot better than his father. "I do think, however, that your uncle is very keen to see you again, as is your cousin."

Faramir nodded, mentioning that he would see them in the morning. Faramir was already beginning to feel a little sleepy again, a combination of a filling supper, a stout ale, and whatever Glorfindel had administered.

"Father, there was more to what i dreamed last night," Faramir said, hoping he could finish telling his father what he had dreamed before being taken into more dreams. In Aragorn's grey eyes could be found the kind of patient attentiveness that Faramir used to think was a thing belonging only to lore.

"There was a woman arrayed in the blue of Dol Amroth, i knew immediately it was my mother though she stood with her back to me. She was where she used to stand at the high Citadel wall and gaze at the Anduin as it ran south to the sea. She turned to me, and though she looked very weary, when she saw me she smiled brightly and embraced me. I asked her how she recognized me and she said that no other had the sort of integrity that she found in my eyes.

"Together we walked along the wall. I told her that i feared that i had not done her memory honor of late, but she said that she was more proud of me than ever before because every man has faults, but rare is he who accepts them and takes accountability for himself. Again, mother embraced me and she asked me to remember her to her grandchildren and to love them as she loved Bor' and I. She stepped back as i gave her my word, but without warning a horse all of sable sped through the 7th gate and charged at us, knocking mother backward and off the wall. I screamed and tried to reach for her but it was too late. Strangely, in my dream the Anduin shifted course to catch her body and deliver her to arms of the sea. When i looked for the culprit beast there was no trace of anything.

"I began to feel black despair taking me, but i heard Boromir impatiently calling me. I finally was able to fight through the black, but as i looked around i saw that i was no longer at Minas Tirith, but in a woodland. I asked Boromir if he had seen what happened to mother or where the horse ran to. He replied that he knew what i saw, but that it had not happened. He bade me heed our mother's words, but to never believe what i saw when the black horse appeared. I asked him when he acquired such wisdom and though he could give me naught as explanation he told me that there is so much to be learned of in the world that i should have to stay alive for an Elven-life to understand everything. Though he jested, i knew Boromir was concerned for me when he rested his hand on my shoulder and held my gaze silently.

"'I am holding you to your promise to me, little brother,' he said. I'd made so many promises to him i could not recall which one he might refer to until he said that i should tell you to give me his bracers to remind me of my promise. I remembered that afternoon when we were little more than children, the first time i ever bested him at foils, and afterward we went for a swim. I promised him that day that i would not give in to self-doubt. Bor' often said that i was my only judge, especially after Denethor had been after me. As i saw him there with me in the wood, dressed just as he had been the last time i saw him in that Elven boat, my eyes pleaded with him, for i felt as though i no longer understood anything, least of all myself, and i could not judge myself. Boromir smiled and drew me closer and said, 'Then base your judgment on my judgment of you, little brother.'

"I asked him what his opinion of me was, exactly, and he only smiled, saying, 'You know by now, Fara'. Anyone who does not appreciate you is a fool who can not see past the end of his own nose. I have wanted to teach you that for so long, that you might really be free, even from me.'

"'I don't mean to lean on you, but i don't want to be _free_ of you either, brother. Though sometimes you were an incredible nuisance,' I said to him.

"'As were you, Far',' he said in jest. Then he said in a sincere whisper, 'You can lean on me, little brother.' I told him i loved him and missed and he said, 'And i you, Faramir. Sweet dreams.' We embraced and just as he started to step back, i saw a flash of black through the trees and a horde of uruks swept past, not noticing me. When they were gone, my valiant brother lay shot dead upon the bank of the Anduin."

As Faramir finished retelling his dream his father looked caught in a memory. "After a while, especially after Caradhras, the full impact of our oaths came to us and few of us expected to survive our journey," Aragorn said, sounding distant. "Your brother was different, though. He never once feared for his own life, the only things he ever showed any concern about were Gondor's fate and you. You saw your brother at Amon Hen. It was as such when i found him, i offered him healing, even though i knew no skill, not even Elrond's, could have done more than delay the inevitable. It seems a cruel fate. Boromir was our only real fatality."

Faramir smiled vaguely. "Boromir would have gone mad if he had lived to an old age. He wanted to be fighting and helping his country until his last breath. It is selfish of me to wish for him to be back, though. Both he and _naneth_ are in a far better place."

"It is not selfish, Faramir," his father said sympathetically. "It is human nature. You miss them greatly and shall continue to. But it is true what Boromir told you in your vision, there is indeed much for you here."

"I know there is, _adar_," Faramir said, grasping Aragorn's hand.

"You called Finduilas '_naneth_'?" Aragorn asked his son, sounding a little sleepy.

Faramir nodded. "It was the first word i spoke, she told me. I know mother spoke little Elvish, and never around Denethor, but she spoke as much as she knew around me."

Their conversation paused, Aragorn thinking of his son's first word being an Elvish one. It caused him such pride, even if it was 36 years late.

"_Adar_, you are tired, please go and get your sleep. I am fine now, as long as i keep my arm still, and Master Erestor gave me all these papers to keep myself out of trouble...," Faramir said with a compassionate beam.

"I am tired," Aragorn admitted. "Even after having an enforced nap this afternoon. I must be aging.... Do not stay up too late," Aragorn said, knowing that Faramir would be awake reading until the candle at his bedside had burned itself out.

ooo

_naneth = mother_

_It felt like this chapter was never going to get finished this long weekend, but here it is. The next chapter may be the end, it is looking that way. But weep not... there is always the ever-popular... sequel._


	58. Too Old to Break Free and Run

In the days and weeks that followed, with autumn settling firmly in, Faramir made very good healing progress and before long he was going about his duties as cheerfully as ever. By the time of the traditional end of harvest feast, the Steward was back to full capacity. Though from time to time he would still wake in the middle of the night in a cold sweat over a disturbing dream, or to a stabbing pain in his left forearm if his muscles had locked in the night, he was otherwise every bit the young, healthful, and sturdy of mind and body gentleman that he had once been. And now that he had the added advantage of a real father, the world could not get any more beautiful in Faramir's opinion.

As autumn's gracious touch gave brilliant color to the Gondorian landscape, Faramir and Aragorn watched as Minas Tirith was rebuilt better than it was when Elendil's sons ruled the South Kingdom. The work had been completed in just enough time for the Harvest Festival to commence, and Minas Tirith again gave welcome to many outsiders. Éomer had departed Gondor not long after making his most solemn apologies to both Aragorn and Faramir, not to mention Imrahil, who he had been eager to impress. Lothíriel accompanied him back to Edoras, where they planned to announce their betrothal, Imrahil following very closely. They intended to return in time to visit when their newest kin would arrive.

It was with great happiness that Aragorn welcomed Legolas and Gimli back to his city, the Dwarf entirely amazed with the work his kin had completed in the City, though Legolas still believed that trees were too few and suggested that Aragorn send for saplings to be brought and planted in the spring.

Aragorn was finally truly feeling able to sit back and relax and enjoy the festivities. Everything was getting back to usual. He and his son had, between them, brokered peace with former enemies, reclaimed lands long since thought of as lost, and seen the pride of Gondor restored.

Faramir, however joyful he was at the fact that he'd had a hand in helping get his country back to right, did little to relax. When he wasn't sitting up late in his study, even when it was just rereading his favorite old tales, he was usually found laying in his bed wondering what fatherhood was like.

Farther along in another chamber which faced west, his wife lay in her bed wondering how her life would change with motherhood. The issue was fastly becoming a reality to be considered. If the Mistress of Magic, as Faramir had titled Galadhriel, had been correct, Éowyn had two months longer to bear her children as winter began to curl in with morning frosts lasting longer through the day.

One late evening after supper when Faramir had retreated to his sanctum, Éowyn knocked softly, having but a little energy left after the walk from the dining hall to the Steward's study. Faramir lifted his eyes, slowly taking them from the words that pulled for his attention. "Éowyn. Please come and sit, you should not exert yourself so," he said in care.

"I do not wish to sit," she said seriously. "Faramir, please come to bed." Her tone was a soft one, such as she had rarely used. Perhaps motherhood was already setting in, she wondered within herself.

To Faramir's ears it sounded like an invitation he should not accept. Certainly not for a while yet. Then again, he thought, maybe she just meant that she was concerned about his sleeping habits of late. His father certainly was and had gone so far as to threaten that Glorfindel still had a little enchanted water left in his supply. Faramir simply shook his head, reminding his wife that it was she who now needed the sleep far more than he did.

"Faramir, i still do not understand," she said, sounding much more like herself. "We have been married since summer, it has been months now. Why are our chambers still on opposite sides of the palace?"

Faramir looked a little confused, but he was getting very used to the moods Éowyn was going through. He briefly considered something Celeborn had said to him about living in a tree in Mirkwood, but he took her question as gently as humanly possible. "What do you mean, Éowyn?" he asked softly.

Apparently not softly enough.

Éowyn flew into a rage. "Why do you still avoid me?" she demanded. "Why do we retire to separate places instead of to our own chamber?"

At this Faramir only grew more confused and much more afraid. When his wife was in a mood like this, he had to move very carefully or risk becoming a target for whatever nearby object was able to be lobbed his way. "I do not avoid you, i simply try to give you as much freedom as you have always had," he said, not terribly lying, though in truth he had been rather avoiding her ever since her moods began to run wild. "Éowyn, _meleth_, what do you mean _our own_ chamber?" he asked inoffensively.

"What do i mean?!" she practically shouted. "I mean a chamber that you and i share. A bed that you and i sleep in at night."

Faramir did understand this now, and had to choose his words very carefully indeed. "Éowyn, it is not the way of Gondorian husbands and wives to keep the same bedchambers. Naturally, those who have not the housing for such do not, but those of us in the city, particularly in the Citadel -"

Éowyn cut him off before he could go any further into his explanation. "So you mean to say that you believe it coarse to do so? You think that the people of Rohan, who have always shared all as husband and wife, no matter their rank, are but uncouth and uncivilized? Just because you are so decorous, with your 'noble bloodlines' and never saying what you really mean. So self-composed are you that you never show your emotions and keep people guessing just what it is you feel for them!" she shouted at him before turning and rushing off with more agility than it looked like she had in her condition.

Faramir sighed, leaning back in his place. He had been surprised by her outburst, but he had no idea why. Moments later another knock was heard from the door that Éowyn had slammed shut on her way out. Faramir tiredly called for the guest to come in.

"Do not look so downcast, _ion-nín_," Aragorn said with an encouraging smile, upon entering. "I have yet to meet the Elf who could tread lightly enough around the questions of a very pregnant woman."

For several hours the two men stayed up talking. Faramir flinched when yet another knock was heard, fearing that his wife had thought of something else she disagreed with Gondorian society about. Aragorn took note and answered it himself to find his own wife there, looking upset.

"What troubles you, _meleth_?" he asked reaching out for her.

"Is Éowyn not here either?" she said in a distracted tone, as she started to turn to look elsewhere.

Aragorn would not let go of her though. "What do you mean, Arwen? Is there trouble?"

"I can not find her anywhere, Estel. I thought i saw her going out from the Citadel, but thought surely not at this hour. Yet i can find her not."

Faramir drew in a sharp breath in panic, realizing that Arwen probably had seen her leaving after their argument. Pushing past his father he rushed forth from the Citadel toward the stables. He swore violently when he saw neither his wife nor his wife's horse there. He jumped on the nearest charger without bothering to tack it up and raced out of Minas Tirith.

ooo

_So begins the beginning of the end. This chapter and two more, one will be up Thursday morning, the other Thursday evening, are the end of this story. I have all three written... i just thought i would space them out for a bit of suspense :)_


	59. Sad Veiled Bride, Please be Happy

Legolas had been perched atop the stable watching the stars of early winter when Faramir rode out in haste. He guessed that he was probably riding out after the soldier of the Rohirrim, who was obviously Éowyn in her brother's old clothes, that he had seen walking unsteadily away some hours ago. Shaking his head at mortal haste and breaking his vow to stop getting involved in the affairs of mortals, Legolas jumped down and called for Arod to follow Faramir.

"Faramir!" Legolas called as he caught up with the Steward just exiting the city.

Faramir turned but said nothing, nor did he slow down much. "Please do not try to convince me to stay here," he said with resolve.

"I had no such intent, Faramir," Legolas assured him. "However, i would like to know how you intend to find her if she has headed into the wood for shelter."

At that Faramir did stop. His voice was even but his eyes betrayed anxiety and despondency. "I do not know, Legolas. I had hoped she had not gone that far yet."

Legolas glanced at the sliver of a moon hanging low in the sky. "It was at least three hours ago that i saw her walking away. Let me accompany you, Faramir, and she shall be found all the swifter."

Faramir nodded in accordance before spurring his horse forward again, as did Legolas. Legolas quickly took the lead, able to follow her footprints even in the night. He found that she had indeed gone into Druadan, likely for shelter and thinking it a quicker route. Unguided, a person could easily become hopelessly lost in the woods.

"We shall have to dismount, Faramir," Legolas said as they approached for the forest. "_Dartho_," was the whisper in Sindarin to the two horses and the Elf and Man went into the wood.  
Faramir could not help but admire the keenness of Legolas's senses. He has never really seen Elven perceptions at work before, and it was rather a thing of wonder. As the Elf peered about the dense trees, he would now and then narrow his eyes as if picking up on some slight motion that Faramir was utterly insensible to. It was no different with the Elf's hearing ability. While looking intently sometimes he would cock his head and stand perfectly still for a moment or two, discerning a sound inaudible to the mortal Steward. Every so often Legolas would spring up a tree to have a better look around, then jump down again from a high branch without hardly rustling a leaf.

For as impressed as Faramir was, it did not take long before worry overrode all else again. It had to have been an hour since they entered the wood, each calling to Éowyn every few minutes. Faramir began to grow weary and doubtful. "If anything has befallen her, i shall never forgive myself," he muttered as they moved carefully on.

"I do not sense any urgency, Faramir. You would do yourself, and her, better to think on the best," Legolas said confidently.

Faramir wished he could feel as the Elf did. The further they went the more drained Faramir became. When nearly three hours has passed Faramir took to leaning against trees as they walked. From there it was not long until he started to linger, with sleeping tugging at him, while Legolas went ahead and checked their route.

"Faramir," the Elf said, looking at his best friend's son with great sympathy for his mortal exhaustion, "allow me to continue on alone. Stay here and rest and if i should find her i will come directly here again. You can not continue in this manner, you shall drop over mid stride."

Faramir shook his head insistently and trudged on a few more steps, Legolas watching skeptically, before he turned and nodded, throwing himself to the forest floor. He reached out his hand and took Legolas's. "Promise me that you will find her?" he begged the Elf.

"You have my word, son of Aragorn." Legolas went quickly onward, following the slight signs of the passage of a lady and a horse through these dense trees. He knew he was not far now.

It has been no more than a half an hour since Legolas left the exhausted Steward of Gondor when he found another exhausted mortal. Éowyn was laying against the base of a tree, looking to Legolas's Elf eyes that she fell asleep because she had little power to do aught else. When he knelt beside her it was evident that she had been crying for some while before nodding off. Legolas tried to gently wake her but received no more response than something mumbled in a half-sleep in Rohirric.

Shaking his head, Legolas lifted the expectant Lady of Ithilien into his arms and went back toward where he had left Faramir. It was no struggle for the Elf and he was prepared to bear her back to Minas Tirith, but when he got back to Faramir, he found that he had no more luck in waking Faramir. Though at least he understood the Sindarin words that the Steward mumbled in his dazed state. Setting Éowyn gently on the forest floor beside her husband where they slept soundly, Legolas found himself a comfortable place in the tree above them and peacefully kept the night watch.

With morning both Faramir and Éowyn woke at the same time, both forgetting momentarily where they were, then wondering when the other had come to sleep by their side.

"Éowyn," Faramir breathed, sounding greatly relieved and putting his arms around her. "You are alright, thank the Valar."

"Faramir, forgive me, i do not know what i was thinking," she said desperately. "I am sorry. I must have been mad to walk out here. I knew i could not ride, though, and i was just so angry. I do not even remember why now, and last night i was in such pain that i think i cried myself to sleep."

"I believe you do, Lady Éowyn," said a light voice from above them. Legolas jumped down out of the tree, half-startling Éowyn, though Faramir was still sort of impressed that he made no discernable sound and landed with perfection, as though he had done nothing more than descend a staircase. "Do you wish me to bear you back to Minas Tirith, Lady, or shall we be continuing on to visit your brother?" Legolas asked, sounding innocent of complicity.

One look into Faramir's worried eyes was all the answer Éowyn needed. "We shall return to Minas Tirith, of course, Master Legolas. But there is no need for you to bear me anywhere. I shall walk."

Legolas shook his head decisively. "No, indeed, my Lady, you shall not. Not in your late condition."

Faramir saw immediately where this was going and bowed, wisely, out. Two of the most stubborn people in all of Middle-earth were standing there, each insisting on his (or her) own way. Legolas glanced at Faramir as he listening to Éowyn explain, again, why she was perfectly able to walk on her own. An idea came to him, and this time he consented to Éowyn's wishes, rather surprising Faramir.

On the way back, they passed a stream from which they filled their water skins. Legolas insisted that Éowyn take a sip from his, as he needed much less water than she would. That was when Faramir caught on to the Elf's plan and kept very near to Éowyn, ready to catch her when the watered down Mirkwood water took effect. It did not take very long. Legolas bore her back to the Citadel where she rested comfortably until the next morning.


	60. It Takes Strength to be Gentle

Over the next two months Éowyn found it extraordinarily difficult to even traverse the hallways of the castle. Though she certainly had no desire to go out into the frigid winter that had laid claim to Gondor, she detested being kept to her bed, even if it was near impossible for her to rise from it. Faramir did all he could to keep her spirits up, and in two months time he had told her more tales than she had ever thought possible. He began to think that maybe if he could teach her to read in a couple of languages they might have a lot more in common.

Time came and went and quickly as healers did to and from the Citadel. One day the Master healer came to Faramir and insisted that his wife be brought to the Houses on the 6th level before the day was out. He was certain that she would be delivered before the week was out. Suddenly it all caught up to Faramir and for the next three days solid, the young man did nothing but pace his study, his father's study, the Hall of Kings, the corridors, everywhere he could walk off his highly nervous energy.

On the fourth day, the old woman Ioreth came hobbling in insisting to see the King at once. She had come for Aragorn's assistance in Éowyn's delivery. As Aragorn rushed down to the Houses, he realized that Ioreth was one of the women who had been there on the days Boromir and Faramir were born.

"_Adar_," Faramir said in an anxious whisper, catching up to his father just before he entered the Houses. "Please take good care of her."

Aragorn smiled compassionately to his son. "She will receive no less care than the wife of the previous Steward received, _ion-nín_."

Though Aragorn's reassurance comforted Faramir greatly and he knew if anyone could ease his wife's suffering it was he, when he heard Éowyn's excruciating cries he shuddered deeply.

Inside the houses it was little better. Though Éowyn was a strong woman, her pregnancy had taken much toll on her strength and Aragorn and the midwives of the city had much difficulty keeping her going. With Finduilas it had been a simple matter of keeping the pain at bay. Whereas Éowyn could bear up with the pain, it seemed to being taking all of her energy and more. Aragorn was fraught not to let her faint, employing everything from Athelas to cold soaked sheets that the healers used to bring down severe fevers.

Aragorn scarcely took notice when his first grandchild finally came into the world, at that moment he was in total healer mode and it only registered to him that Éowyn was going to need all the more help with the second birth. It was another ten minutes before she had the strength to give life to her second child. She looked her twin child for just a moment, a beautiful smile lighting her face as she saw that her two children were the image of the man she married, then she allowed her overexertion to take her into a deep and restful sleep for a while.

As much as Aragorn wanted to fall into the nearest bed and sleep for a week, the first thing he did was to make sure that Éowyn was only in need of sleep before going out to his frantic son.

Faramir froze when the door opened and his saw his father looking terribly fatigued. Under Aragorn's tiredness, Faramir saw a vague smile which lit a spark in Faramir's heart. Aragorn laughed quietly. "Are you going to just stand here or will you come in and meet your son and daughter?" he teased his own son.

As Aragorn lead him to Éowyn's room, the first thing Faramir wanted to know was if they were all three well.

"Perfectly," Aragorn replied. "The mother is sound asleep and will be for a while. She had a rough time of it, but she is fine."

"I'm not sure i did not have the rougher time. I thought my heart had stopped several times," Faramir said with a relieved smile. Concern swept his features when he realized that he would either find himself to be a new father... or a new foster father. "Father...," he whispered, not really sure he wanted to know. "They... are they -?"

Aragorn said not a word though and merely gave Faramir a nudge into the room where mother, son, and daughter rested. The world changed the moment Faramir laid eyes upon his children resting in the arms of one of Éowyn's nurses. His son just began to open his eyes as his father lifted him from the woman's arms. Holding this child, he knew beyond a shadow of doubt that these children were of his own flesh and blood, and when he looked into his sleepy son's grey Dúnedain eyes he wept, feeling that he almost saw his brother looking back at him. "Elboron," Faramir whispered peacefully.

Aragorn held Elboron while Faramir took his daughter in his arms and dismissed the nurse. "Her eyes are as blue as the sea, his as grey as a spring rain cloud," Aragorn mused.

Faramir wept yet anew holding his daughter. Her hair was as golden as her mother's and her fair feature's took after Faramir's Dol Amroth side. Faramir laid a delicate kiss to his daughter's forehead as he whispered, "Findiel."

"They are as perfect as you were, Faramir," Aragorn said, putting an arm around his son. "Do not leave these children for one moment, my son." There was a soft knock at the door and Aragorn bid the newcomer to enter. He smiled to see his wife come to greet Gondor's latest arrivals. "Arwen," he said quietly, with a idyllic smile, "I want one of these of our own."

Arwen mirrored Aragorn's smile as she looked at the now sleeping Elboron and Findiel. There was a new, different sparkle in her eyes that Aragorn was sure had not been there before. "Soon enough, _meleth-nín_," she said in a peaceful whisper.

As Faramir gently held his children, one on each arm, he realized unquestionably that while the past might never die, the future had the power to defeat it. And without even knowing it, the two little wonders Faramir held with such love he never knew possible had at once vanquished every wound, physical, emotional, and psychological, that Faramir had ever taken.

The End.

ooo

_This story has been brought to you by:_

_The Faramir Appreciation League: Faramir, Captain of Gondor, Jeweled Hunter of Ithilien. Wilt though join the good quest to shine the hallowed light on the deserving Faramir of Gondor? Go to to find "faramirappreciationleague."_

_End of story quiz: Can anyone tell me what the chapter titles of chapters 12 through 60 (with exception of 14 and 25) have in common? Whoever can gets a story dedication of their choice._

_A translation i forgot from last chapter (Elvish is so usual to me, sometimes i forget to help others): Dartho Stay, hold._

_And a very happy birthday to Voldie. Many happy returns of the day!_

_Many, many, many thanks to all my dear readers! I hope for lots of end-of-story reviews._

_I will see you all again in fanfic land after the 18th. Watch for more updates to "Immortal Beloved", a Glorfindel-Erestor fic especially for AM (i am toying with the idea of mild slash since those two are so obvious they've almost broken my gaydar... would that be too offensive?), and a sequel to this story. _

_Love to you all! Tenna' ento lye omenta! (Until next we meet)_


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